Into the Wild
by flaminglake
Summary: Will and Halt are sent to Oramin to accompany the courier Lillian. But Will soon finds himself in charge of a small group of Oramine, lost in the wild, with his mentor badly injured, and struggling to get home alive. Read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**Into the Wild**

**Chapter one **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's apprentice or any of it's characters and concepts.**

Halt and Will sat facing each other over the table. Between them was a board, painted black and white. Carved wooden counters were sitting innocently on the wood, black for Halt, white for Will.

Halt drummed his fingers on the table, waiting for his former apprentice to make his move. Will leaned forward, lips slightly parted, allowing the tip of his tongue to poke through. His eyes showed intense concentration as he tilted his head sideways to see a different angle of the game.

He reached a hand forward, touched a crude resmblance of a horse, and withdrew his fingers, frowning.

Halt watched him, his fingers tapping a beat from a Hibernian tune. He wouldn't admit to tapping a song though, should anyone ask.

Will reached for the horse again, hesitated, and glanced up at his mentor. Halt's face gave nothing away, so he took a deep breath and moved the piece forward.

Halt casually stretched, reaching for his bishop.

"Checkmate in three moves," he said. Will stared at the board in dismay.

Halt stood up, taking his coffee cup over to the pot for a refill.

Will shrugged his loss off, "I can never beat you, Halt," he said.

"You should try thinking outside the box, sometimes," Halt said, sighing contentedly as the steaming liquid filled his cup.

Will frowned, trying to figure out a way to counter his mentor's strategy. He moved a few pieces back and forth experimentally.

He sensed another presence outside the door before he heard footsteps tapping the wooden deck. He left the board game and moved to open the door.

"Will," Alyss said, smiling at him.

A wide grin stretched across the young ranger's face. He stepped forward, pressing his lips to hers.

"You're back," he murmered, hugging her tightly. Alyss hummed, a happy sound.

Halt coughed noisily. Will jerked away from his girlfriend, his cheeks reddening.

Alyss was still smiling, amused at Will's embarrassment. "May I come in?" she prompted.

Will stepped back hurridly, stumbling in his haste. He recovered himself, grinnning sheepishly.

"Of course," he said, taking her cloak and hanging it over a peg by the door.

Halt set out three cups of coffee. Alyss glanced curiously at the board game still on the table.

"Who won?" she asked.

Will tried to ignore Halt's smug expression. He sat down at the table, warming his hands on his coffee cup.

"Chess isn't about winning," he said. "It's about strategy and creativity."

Halt raised an eyebrow. "And if you used both of those things, mabe you could beat me."

"Anyway," Alyss cut in before they could start bickering, "what have you two been up to?"

"Oh, the usual," Will shrugged. "Couple of bandits, few stuck up nobles, that sort of thing. How did your mission go?"

"Fine," Alyss said. "Though I'm glad to be back home. One can get quite sick of diplomatic delegations, particularly in Hibernia. No offence Halt,"

"None taken," Halt said. He finished his coffee and reluctantly set the mug down. "I might go for a scout around, see if anything new has happened recently." he gave Will a meaningful look and the young ranger swallowed nervously.

The two young people sat in comfortable silence for a moment. At least, it was comfotable for Alyss. Will's hands were starting to sweat and he wiped them on his trousers.

"Ah, Alyss...?" Will asked. Her steady grey eyes met his, waiting patiently. He cleared his throat several times.

"Would.. I mean.. you.."

Her expression didn't change, though Will thought he saw a flicker of something in her eyes.

"Would.. would you like some more coffee?" he said, suddenly feeling very hot.

"No, thank you," Alyss said, far too politely, "I haven't finished this cup yet."

"Ah, right," Will shifted uncomfortably. He would ask tommorow. Yes, it could wait one more day.

Alyss cast him a curious look. Will scratched the back of his neck, trying to pretend his face wasn't bright red.

"So, uh, tell me about your mission?" the young ranger said awkwardly.

"It's not that interesting, really," Alyss said and proceeded to tell him briefly about what had happened while she was in Hibernia.

Will idly prompted her with a few questions but his mind was someplace else. He fingered the ring in his pocket. He kept it with him at all times, just in case he someday worked up the courage to ask. Not so far thought, as Halt constantly reminded him. He wondered how many rangers knew he was trying to work up the courage to ask Alyss to marry him. He wouldn't put it past Halt to tell everyone and he had noticed some strange looks he'd been getting at the last gathering.

It was late evening when Alyss finally left. Halt had obviously intended to give them the whole day together and was probably back in his home with Pauline.

As the door closed behind his girlfriend, Will felt very alone. The sudden loss of company made the cabin seem big and empty. He sighed to himself, putting away the boardgame. All there was to do was scrub at the dirty dishes. He could practise playing his mandola, but he didn't really feel like music.

He idly read through a few reports but there was nothing particularly interesting. The kingdom had been at peace for a long time now. He was grateful for that, despite being bored. After all the excitement in his life, nothing seemed to be happening. He tossed the reports aside and retreated to his bedroom.

He knew he should be happy and he was! His friends were all safe, the kingdom was safe, everything was perfect. He just felt restless and more than a little annoyed at his failed attempts to propose.

He sighed and snuggled deeper under his blankets. Why did life have to be so complicated? Nonetheless, he fell asleep almost instantly, as he had been trained to do.

…...

The following day, they got a letter from Corps Commandant Crowley.

Halt was at the cabin for lunch and the two of them were enjoying a savoury stew. There was a light atmosphere of friendship as the two of them exchanged words of banter.

After their meal, Will went outside to get the mail. He dropped the pile of letters on the table, scanning the names.

"This ones from Crowley," he said and tore the envelope open. He read it aloud so Halt could hear.

_Dear Halt and Will_

_I'm sorry I can't tell you this in person, but I really couldn't get a break as there's far too much to do here. So I'm having to tell you this in a letter. That being said, let's get on with it, shall we?_

_The Royal Council of Oramin has requested a treaty with Araluen. As you know, Oramin has been somewhat corrupted over the years and trapped under a weak leader. However, he has recently died and his nephew took his place. They assure us it is under control._

_But if it isn't, they could potentially ask us for all sorts of resources that we simply can't afford to give. Yet if we refused, it could be seen as a breach of the treaty. Should that happen, the other countries that are allied with us might decide we are untrustworthy. _

_Duncan doesn't want a treaty with a weak country that may offer no threat to us anyway. So we are sending someone to go there and see what the country is like. The Royal Council of Oramin know of the arrangement and they accept happily. _

_We are sending a young women to investigate. Her name is Lillian Carister and, as you've probably guessed, she is a courier. Your job will simply be to protect her, nothing more, nothing less. _

_She will meet you in three days time at Marsden River, where a Skandian ship will be ready to take you to Oramin._

_Good luck and god bless._

_From the talented, handsome and wonderful ranger_

_Crowley_

Will shook his head at the sign off. Well, that was Crowley, he thought.

"Have you ever been to Oramin, Halt?" he asked his former mentor.

"Always with the questions," Halt said. "But yes, in fact, I have. Irrational country is Oramin. I'll be glad if they really have gained control of it."

Will summoned an image of a map to his mind. He remembered spending long and painful hours memorising the positions of countries and was grateful for it. Oramin, he knew, was in the upper east of the main contenant.

"It's got a huge forest in it," Will remembered.

"Yes," Halt said. "The whole country is basically one big forest. But it gets thicker towards the centre and that's where people don't go. It's what they call 'The Wild'."

"Do you speak their language?"

"No," Halt dismissed the question with a wave. "Their traditional language is ancient. It's only tradition. All Oramin can speak it, but they also speak the common tongue. So when we get there, you'll find you can understand them but they'll throw in words from the ancient language."

Will nodded thoughtfully. He was trying to imagine what the mission would be like. It was only an escort mission, so it wasn't going to be as exciting as his times in Skandia or when he was in Norgate. But he was grateful to have something to distract him from his problems with Alyss. Yes, some time away to get his head in order would do him good.

Apparantly, Halt was thinking the same thing. "With any luck," he said. "You'll miss Alyss so much while where away that you'll actually ask her to marry you."

"Oh shut up," Will said. He didn't like the grim, straight faced Halt making fun of his bad attempts. Not Halt, of all people, the man who had taken everyone by surprise by marrying Pauline. Halt, who hadn't had the courage to ask her for ten years.

"I must say," Halt continued, "your failed attempts are the most pathetic thing I've ever seen. And I've seen Crowley trying to dance."

Now, that put interesting images in Will's mind.

He grinned and the grin soon turned wistful as his thoughts returned to Alyss.

He could hardly ask her to marry him and then run off to Oramin a few days later. That would be rude. She would probably prefer to spend a few days with him, then some time planning the wedding. Yes, he would have to wait until after he got back.

In the meantime, they had a mission to prepare for.


	2. Chapter 2

**Into the Wild**

**Chapter 2 **

The massive wolfship was anchored in Marsden river, exactly where Crowley had told them it would be. Will recognised the hideous figurehead of the ship immediately.

"That's Svengals ship," he said.

Halt nodded. He had also recognised the firgurehead. It bought back memories for both of them. Memories of separation, a snow covered country, a war and a spring that took forever to come. He wondered briefly what the Temujai were up to, then pushed that thought away. It was superfluous to their current mission.

"Will Treaty!"

Svengal was leaning of the railing, waving at them.

"Hello Svengal," Will smiled. "Good to see you."

"Aye!" the captain grinned.

The two rangers boarded the ship. They had decided to leave their horses behind, as it would be a long voyage. That decision had taken them a whole night of soul searching. But they both felt it was a good one, for Oramin was meant to be a country covered with thick forestry that would be unsuitable for the horses.

Svengal seized Will in a bearhug, very nearly squeezing the life out of him. When he finally released the young ranger, Will stumbled against the railing, gasping for breath like a fish out of water.

Halt hastily retreated. "Is the courier here yet?" he asked, deliberatly distracting the skandian so he wouldn't suffer the same fate as Will.

"I'm here," a quiet voice said. The Skandian crew parted to let her through. She was slim and quite small, seeming miniscule compared to the bulky Skandians around her. Will was pleased to note that he stood a few centimetres taller than her.

Halt nodded a greeting.

"Ranger Halt," he introduced himself. "And this buffoon behind me is Ranger Will Treaty."

"I'm Lillian Carister," the young woman said, holding out a perfectly manicured hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Lillian was a very beautiful girl, Will thought, though he himself preffered Alyss. She wasn't wearing a couriers uniform, instead opting for more practical clothes. She wore a plain tawny coloured tunic, tied at the waist with a leather belt. Her shirt was silk, her pants light grey. She wore boots that nearly reached her knees. Her hair was dark blonde and touched her shoulders.

Halt shook her hand. Will followed his example. She was tense, he saw.

"This is my first overseas assignment," Lillian said.

"It'll be fine," Will said. He couldn't help wondering if Alyss would be jealous of him going off with a pretty girl. He hoped so.

"That's what my mentor said," Lillian nodded. She had a very serious face, Will thought. All business. Not the kind of person to joke around.

"You know all about the mission, of course," Halt said, just to be sure.

Lillian hesitated, her brown eyes deepening as she thought over everything she knew. "I think so," she confirmed. "And I've been learning their native language."

Halt gave her an approving nod. "Good. It's always diplomatic to address our future allies in their native tongue."

"I've also learnt some of their customs and traditions," Lillian said.

"Excellent! Excellent!" Svengal said, not wanting to be left out of the conversation. He liked the word excellent. It was three syllables, so it sounded smarter than just 'good'. Ex-cel-lant. Say it twice made it six syllables. Syllable was a good word too.

Will grinned at him. "Are we ready to go?"

"No time like the present," Halt said.

"Alright," Svengal boomed. "Oars out! Cast off and fend!"

"And away we go," Will said to himself.

…...

Will leaned on the railing, watching the waves roll, breaking with white foam. Halt was huddled on the starboard side of the ship. Will knew from experience that his mentor did not appreciate company in his delicate state at sea. He also knew that Halt would recover in a few days but until then, he would stay well away.

Lillian was below deck, studying maps of Oramin. She hadn't appeared on deck since their first meeting. Once or twice, Will, who was naturally friendly, had gone to find her. On these occasions, he found her reading handbooks on the Oramin language, going over the mission report or practising her mannerisms in the mirror.

He rested his chin on his folded arms, remembering a time when he'd been on the same ship but surrounded by his closest friends, laughing and joking. He missed Alyss already. Will needed a distraction.

It was Svengal who provided it. Will heard him approaching (it was hard to miss) and glanced up as the burly skandian leaned on the railing beside him.

"Aaah," Svengal said. "Beautiful day today. Nothing quite like the fresh ocean breeze."

"Halt doesn't seem to be enjoying it so much," Will said, glancing over at his mentor, a small grin forming on his face.

Svengal laughed loudly. "Aye, I'm going to cook him up a big lunch!"

Halt, obviously overhearing, turned around. His dark eyes glared at them from behind his pale, clammy skin.

"You like that idea, Halt?" Svengal said cheerfully. "We have chicken, pork, fish, you name it. Good and greasy and filling. I like chicken myself, cooked up with a good thick sauce."

Halt cocked his head, a dangerous little smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

"Is there anything you want to do before you die?"

Svengal frowned. "Lots of things," he said.

Halt's wolfish smile widened. "Do them fast, Svengal, do them fast."

…...

One night, Will invited Lillian to his and Halt's cabin, in an attempt to get to know her better. She came willingly enough and Will thought he would finally get to talk to her about something other than business.

No such luck. She arrived with her arms full of papers.

"Where's Ranger Halt?" she asked, her papers clutched tightly to her chest.

"I think he's talking with Svengal," Will told her with a shrug. "You can put those on the desk there."

Lillian dropped the papers onto the desk.

"Was there something you wanted?" she asked.

Will shook his head. He pulled back her chair, inviting her to sit.

"Not at all," he said. "I just thought that since we are working together, we might get to know each other a little better."

Lillian pursed her lips. "Oh, I see," she said. She sounded disappointed.

"Coffee?" Will asked.

She hesitated, then sat in her chair. "No thank you," she said. "I don't drink coffee."

Will's eyes widened slightly. "You don't drink coffee?"

Lillian gave him a strange look. "No-oo," she said carefully.

Will shrugged slightly, letting the matter go. "No matter. What would you like to drink?"

"I'm not thirsty, thank you Ranger Will."

Will suppressed a sigh. She was perched on the edge of her chair. He had no doubt that as soon as she could politely leave, she would.

"So, where are you from?" he asked her.

Lillian's shoulders lifted slightly. "Caraway," she said.

"Hmm, that's a nice fief," Will said, giving her an encouraging smile.

"I suppose."

"What do you like to do in your spare time?"

Lillian shifted in her chair. "Well, I like to read, I guess."

Will grinned, pleased that he was getting somewhere. He gestured to the pile of papers on the desk.

"What are those?" he asked.

She rose, picking them up, then laying them down one by one in front of him.

"Here, this is background on Oramin. These are their legends, their kings, famous warriors and such like. This one here is the weapons they use. Their laws. Their social positions. Customs. Langua-"

"Whoa, whoa!" Will laughed. "Is all this really necessary?"

Lillian's face flushed red. She gathered her papers, clutching them tightly.

"W-well, maybe some of us need these sorts of references. Not everyone is a famous ranger!" she snapped. She spun on her heel, storming out of the cabin, hiding the moisture in her eyes.

Will blinked. He poured himself a cup of coffee with a heavy sigh.

"That went badly," he muttered to himself.

…...

"Good morning," Svengal said cheerfully. His beard was dripping water onto the deck as he pulled on the ropes securing the mast.

Halt was sitting on a barrel, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. The sun had just touched the horizen and it was still very cold. He raised an eyebrow at Will as the younger man walked on deck.

"Morning, Svengal, Halt," Will said. "Lillian," he added, catching sight of the slim women trying to look inconspicious behind the bulky skandians.

"How are you enjoying life at sea, Miss Lillian?" Svengal asked.

"It's fine," she said stiffly.

"Svengal, why are you wet?" Will asked.

Grinning, Svengal shook his long, matted hair rather like a giant dog spraying water everywhere. "Nothing like an early morning swim 'round the boat to clear your head." He started towards Will. "There's still time if you want to take a dip."

Will stepped backwards hurridly. "No, I'll pass," he said.

"Whatever you say. And hows Alyss?"

Will smiled at the thought of her. "She's great," he said. Was she missing him? He longed to run his fingers through her hair, so soft, so fragile. He'd kiss her, tasting her beauty, her lingering smell of flower petals filling his nose, staying with him in his dreams.

"Lovesick," Halt said, a mixture of sympathy and pity.

"Aye, so I see," Svengal said. "Will you marry her?"

Hidden in the cowl of his cloak, Will's ears glowed red. "Uh, yes, I'm going to ask her when we get back."

Halt shook his head in mock sadness. "He's been trying for months now. It's quite pathetic really."

"It hasn't been months!" Will said defensively.

Halt raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, what about you and Pauline?" Will pointed out. "It took you years!"

"Enough chit chatter," Halt said calmly. "How far are we from Oramin?"

"Six days," Svengal answered. "The same distance as when you asked me this morning." Apparently, Will wasn't the only one who had noticed Halt was avoiding the question.

"Having fun, Lillian?" Halt asked.

Lillian stiffened at her name. "Oh.. oh, yes, I suppose so."

"Enough adventure for you?"

"I guess."

She was very unsure of herself, Will saw. He was naturally friendly and flashed her an encouraging smile. She ignored it. Obviously, she hadn't yet forgotten their awkward evening together.

He missed Alyss. A pleasant night with a pretty girl would be welcome to him. Not that Alyss would like that very much, he realised. There was no way he would ever cheat on her, but he would be working with Lillian and they would work better together if they weren't so ill at ease.

Maybe if he talked to her in that light, she would be more friendly. If it was part of her job description.

And after all, she would have to show some confidence when they talked to the Oramin officials.

"Come on, then," Svengal said, grinning wildly. "Let's see the ring."

A little embarrassed, Will dug around in his back pocket, pulling out the ring. He held it out in front of him. The Skandians gathered around to get a good look. Lillian also craned her head to see. It was a simple ring, plain gold with no fancy engravings. For some reason, he thought it suited Alyss more than the ones embedded with diamonds. She didn't need flashy jewellry to be pretty.

"What's she like?" Lillian asked, looking shy.

"Alyss?" She's amazing!" Will said, his eyes misting as he thought of her. "She's the most beautiful girl I know. She's graceful, kind, compassionate and she always knows exactly what to say to make me feel better. One time, when..."

"Lovesick," Halt and Svengal said, along with a few of the Skandians.

"As I said, it's quite pathetic," Halt said, shaking his head in mock sadness.

"I don't think it's pathetic," Lillian said suddenly. She flushed red when everyone looked at her.

"Thank you, Lillian," Will said.

He tucked the ring away. When they returned home, he would propose. He'd do it. He'd really do it.

He just prayed to every god he knew she would say yes.

…...

Finally, the green hills, rugged with trees, appeared on the horizen.

"Here we are," Halt said softly.

**Sorry, Gwedhiel0117, more mentions of the whole Halt/Pauline proposal thing. It just seemed to work... sometimes things happen on their own when I'm writing...**

**Thank you everyone for your reviews! You should review this chapter too, hmm?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Into the Wild**

**Chapter 3 **

**AN: Just a quick word, to clear anything up. There is no way in hell Will would leave Alyss for Lillian, or anyone else. I don't do character/OC pairings, unless the character is single all through the books. **

**Also, just a warning, there's gonna be four main OCs in this story, five if you count Lord Daan, but it's still mainly about Will and Halt and they OCs are just back up characters to gawp at how awesome rangers are, lol.**

They travelled up a river, weaving between the hills thickly covered in forestry. All around them, tall trees twisted up into the sky. Some of these stretched over the water, scraping against Wolfwinds hull. Svengal cursed at this and leaned over the rail to inspect the damage.

"It's just a scratch in the paint," Halt told him carelessly.

Svengal glared at him. "I'll stick a tree in your horse, see how you like it."

"This is the Insee river," Lillian said, "It means what it sounds like. The river that runs in from the sea."

Will glanced sideways at her. She hadn't said much on the long voyage. Maybe now that they were here, she had something to occupy her mind. He knew the feeling. He could finally stop thinking about Alyss and focus on the mission.

Oramin was very different to what Will was used to. In Araluen, villages were set up around the castles where the nobles lived. Here, he could see the whole establshment was made up of lots of houses, the nobles having slightly bigger houses. The majority of the houses were built up trees, while the others rested around the river. Those would be fishermens houses, Will guessed, judging by the nets he could see on the decks.

People dressed in a wide variety of colours were gathered at the port to welcome the diplomatic delegation. Lillian stood at the front of the ship, waving to the people, her face a mask. She no longer looked nervous. Like all diplomats, she was obviously skilled at hiding her emotions when it came to the important things.

Those at the front of the crowd were the nobles. These people were dressed just as colourfully as the others, but the fabrics of their clothes were finer and embrodered with flowery patterns.

The foreigners disembarked. Will kept a straight face and stared straight ahead, though he listened to the people of Oramin.

"Look at their clothes."

"Wow, their skin is so pale!"

"How do we know they aren't evil?"

"The lord says they aren't."

The whispers died down. The crowd parted and a man walked up to them. He was dark skinned, like them all, his black hair streaked with grey and fastened in two long plaits. He had a cloak that billowed around him, blue with silver tigers embrodered on it. Around his neck hung ropes, each with leaves and flowers weaved into them.

"Greetings foreigners," he said. "I am Lord Daan of Oramin."

Lillian bowed deeply and the others followed her lead, though Svengal hesitated and his bow was clumsy.

"I am Lillian Carister, the arranged diplomat." Her voice was high pitched and clear. Will could imagine her practising in front of a mirror. Then he realised he was being unfair, she was doing a good job. "And this is my entourage. The ranger's Halt and Will and the Skandian crew under Svengal's command."

Lord Daan's eyes narrowed. "Skandians," he said thoughtfully. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes that made the hairs prickle at the back of Will's neck.

Sensing his hesitation, Lillian added, "If it pleases my lord, the Skandians will remain on their ship here in the harbour."

Svengal stiffened and Halt gave him a pointed look. Don't confront her here, he tried to convey with his eyes. For a diplomatic mission, Lillian was the leader and the others were there to protect her.

"That sounds pleasurable indeed," Lord Daan said. "Welcome to Oramin, Courier Lillian, Ranger's Halt and Will. Sirisa will show you your rooms. I am certain you wish to rest before we talk business."

Svengal huffed indignantly. "I didn't want to leave the ship anyway," he said and there was a low chorus of agreement from the Skandians.

"Just don't go raiding the coastlines or anything." Will grinned.

A young woman walked over to them. She was darkskinned, like all the Oramin people, her long black hair braided down her back in a long rope that reached her thighs. She held up her hand and kissed each of her nails, then made a waving gesture in the air.

"_M'sabil Firo'g'en," _She said, her voice smooth and deep. "I am Sirisa, the _regensi,_ or translated-"

"The appointed head of foreign dealings," Lillian said, never one to miss a chance to demonstrate her knowledge. "I studied the ancient language of Oramin before we came."

Sirisa bowed her head in acknowledgement. "Then perhaps you are not as ignorant as I feared." She gave a little smile to show she meant no offense. "I will be your guide during your stay."

"Sirisa is the one to ask if you need anything," Lord Daan told them. "She will answer any questions you may have."

"Thank you, Lord," Lillian bowed deeply. "That is more than we were hoping for."

Sirisa smiled. "Please, follow me."

She led them to a wooden house, nestled halfway up a tree. She climbed easily up a knotted rope, then waved down at them.

"Lovely," Halt muttered. Will swarmed up the rope with ease, after years of climbing. Halt had done a lot of climbing in his youth so he knew the right tecnique, though he groaned at the sight of it. Lillian, on the other hand, failed to make any progress.

"_Firo'g'en_," Sirisa muttered. She slipped down the rope and tied it around a blushing Lillian's middle. Halt and Will hauled her up, then tossed the rope back down to Sirisa, who once again made the climb that was all too easy for her.

"Sorry," Lillian said to them.

"S'all right," Will flashed her a grin. Sirisa said nothing and ushered them inside. The house was sparsely decorated. The furniture was wooden and didn't look comfortable. There was no sign of a kitchen or fireplace.

"This is your home in Oramin," Sirisa said. "The beds are in that room," she gestured to a door. "This here is not for you to disturb." She lightly touched a wooden structure. It was made of alternating platforms, twisting around each other. A candle burned in the centre of it. "It is to bless the rooms. You may change the candle once a day, but do not move it or a terrible doom will fall on you."

"We certainly wouldn't want that," Will said. Sirisa looked at him sharply.

"Would you like to rest up for a day, or come and meet the people you will be negotiating with?" she asked.

"I'd like to meet them," Lillian said.

"If you can get down the rope, foreigner," Sirisa said. Her face was a blank mask. "Come."

There were five Oramin officials negotiating the treaty. The Lord Daan himself and Sirisa. Also, an Oramin equivalent of a chamberlain, a war general and an older man called Ruch, who's actual job was unknown to the Araluens.

Both parties were eager to get underway. Lillian soon found her stride and was negotiating very well. Sirisa would translate words when either party didn't understand a term. Lord Daan was listening carefully, without actually saying anything.

Halt and Will, though they had no real role to play in the negotiations, hovered by Lillian. They both were eager to explore, but knew foreign countries generally didn't like that.

Finally, Lord Daan indicated that they might break for a while.

"Perhaps you might like to see our army," he offered. This was in the arrangement, of course. They were hardly going to accept a treaty without first seeing what they were getting into. A representative from Lord Daan would soon travel to Araluen to see what things are like there.

Halt took over here, saying that he would very much like to see the army. It didn't escape his attention that Sirisa flashed him a sharp look. Ruch laid a hand on the young woman's shoulder.

"Sirisa, will you take our guests for refreshments. I'll get our demonstration set up," Lord Daan said. Though the words were said in a pleasant tone, an underlying hard edge confirmed that he would not accept refusal.

"Yes, Lord," Sirisa bowed her head. She beckoned to the foreigners.

A low, foldable table was set up under a glade of trees. Platters of food were brought out. The Araluens picked at the snacks, sipping at light, citrus beverages. The war general had left with Lord Daan, but the other three Oramine remained. Halt watched them out the corner of his eyes, while pretending to focus on the food.

The chamberlain was looking slightly awkward, he saw. He was probably out of comfort zone now there were no immediate negotiations to be done. Ruch was watching Sirisa intently. Sirisa had her arms crossed, her expression curiously neutral. None of them touched the food.

With slight misgivings, Halt stopped eating. He set his glass down casually. There was something off about Sirisa, he decided. He sensed there was something he was missing. It may well be harmless but there was no point in taking chances.

He subtly signalled to Will with his eyes. The young ranger stopped eating and nudged Lillian. She looked confused, though she complied.

They spent the afternoon studying Oramin battle tactics. They took great store with ambushing and darting through the thick forests. Even Halt, who had spent a great deal of his life moving through forestry found it hard to keep up with Oramine people. They were born and bred for the trees.

Sirisa escorted them back to their rooms that evening. She walked swiftly and didn't look at them. Her body was rigid with unexplicable anger.

"This is a neat country," Will said, more to his companians than her. But she spun around and fixed him with a feirce glare.

"It is _our _country. _Ours_!" she snapped.

Will, taken aback, raised his hands defensively. "Of course, I'm happy at my home."

"As if!" Sirisa snorted. "No one is ever happy with home. We all want more land, more space, no matter how many have to die to-" she stopped abrubtly and breathed deeply. When she spoke again, he voice was calm.

"I apologise," she said. "It has been a long day, we are all tired." she smiled, a fake, fixed on smile.

They were left alone in their room. They curtained off a section for Lillian, then sat down together, contemplating the day.

"There doesn't seem to be much in the way of coffee here," Halt said mournfully.

Will nodded glum agreement. Lillian, however, didn't seem to share their sorrow. _She _didn't like coffee, Will remembered. How could anyone not like coffee? It was inconcievable.

"Things are going well," Lillian said, changing the subject.

"Yes," Will agreed. "What did you two think of the Oramine officials?"

Halt pursed his lips. "Sirisa seems to be suppressing her feelings- a true diplomat."

"She got pretty angry back there," Will said. "Why was that?"

"You probably offended her."

"How? What did I say?" Will scratched his ear, thinking back.

"Maybe you stirred up a painful memory," Lillian suggested. She had gotten over her grudge on the boat and had an intense air of focus around her.

"Maybe," Halt was frowning slightly. "There's something wrong about her, I don't think she likes strangers much despite being the host to foreigners."

"Appointed head of foreign dealings," Lillian corrected.

Halt waved a careless hand. "Whatever. The point is, did you see how that Ruch fellow was watching her? And it's not just her, havent you noticed what they've been doing ever since the demonstration?"

Will stretched his limbs and suppressed a yawn. "They kept coming up to us, I guess. Asking us our point of view on something or leading us away to show us something totally irrelavent."

"Exactly. Why were they doing that?"

Will frowned. It wasn't like some of the errands had been informative to their goal. The Oramine just seemed to want to keep bothering them. It had happened a lot. Everytime they finished in a meeting and were just thinking of exploring.

"They don't want us looking around," he realised. "They'll show us their army, because that's part of the conditions of the treaty, but won't let us explore the country. But why? We'll have a treaty soon, so we're no threat to them."

"Maybe they're worried we'll change our minds about the treaty," Halt suggested. "Then again, it could well be that they have a tribal religion or tradition they want to preserve. They might not be willing to hand out secrets to foreigners. There's any number of resons."

Will nodded. "What do you think?" he asked. Lillian, sitting quietly nearbly, cocked her head at the older ranger-she was interested too.

Halt shrugged. "I think we should keep an open mind," he said. "And I think it's time for bed. We'll worry about it in the morning."

…...

Sirisa sat staring at a flickering candle late into the night. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Ruch watching her intently.

"Ruch. What is it?"

"The foreigners," he said. "What do you think of them?"

Sirisa reached for her hairbrush and started unbraiding her hair. "They're foreigners," she said flatly.

Ruch touched her shoulder lightly. "I hope you aren't planning anything bad," he said seriously.

Sirisa widened her eyes at him, fluttering her dark eyelashes. "Why, sir Ruch, I would never! How could you think such things?"

"Simple," Ruch said. "I know what happened to you. Sirisa, you know I am your friend, and you are close to me, like a nephew. But please, do not harm the foreigners. These ones have done nothing to you."

A dark shadow crossed her face. She set her hairbrush down gently. "I can't promise you anything."

**By the way, Ruch is pronounced Roosh.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Into the Wild**

**Chapter 4**

The negotiations were going well. Lillian held her own against the barrage of Oramine suggestions. Sirisa took an active part, though she seemed to be making things more difficult.

"This Lillian Carister person has a strong will," Ruch said queitly to Halt. "I was a little surprised- she seems quite timid."

"She does," Halt agreed. "She's doing a good job."

"I'm glad," Ruch said after a long pause. "I didn't think things would go this smoothly."

Halt glanced sidealong at him. "Whys that?"

Ruch heaved a sigh. "Oramin is split in two minds these days. Half the population is ready to expand their knowledge of the world, to jump from the nest, if you like."

"And the other half isn't so keen?" Halt guessed.

"Yes," Ruch said heavily. "Many Oramine are afraid of losing their precious culture. They are afraid of change and of the larger world. These people do not want this treaty."

Halt frowned thoughtfully.

"So which category do you fall under?" Will asked, approaching from behind them.

Ruch smiled at him. "Well, I am happy to have a treaty with such esteemed people as youselves."

The meeting broke up for lunch. Food was served and the Araluens tucked in. This time, the Oramine ate too. Then, Sirisa came over to them.

"Would you like to see some more of Oramin?" she asked and they all agreed eagerly.

She showed them the village and led them a small way into the surrounding forestry. All the while, she spoke about the Oramine, their celebrations, enemies and the fearful place known as the wild.

"No one ever ventures into the wild," she said. "Now that Lord Daan is our leader, he sends criminals to the wild to die. No one ever hears from them again."

"Hasn't anyone ever found their way back?" Will asked.

Sirisa shook her head. "Never," she said grimly. "The wild is separated from here by a wide, dangerous river. It's impossible to cross."

Will raised his eyebrows. "Lovely," he said.

She told them how Oramin had been unorganised and irrational (much like Gallica, Halt said to his companions) until Lord Daan ralied some supporters and took control of the country.

She showed them through a long hall, the only room on the forest floor. Paintings hung on the walls, splashes of green and pink and orange to brighten up the unfurnished rooms. Down the end of the hall, one golden framed painting hung. Five faces were painted in detail, four men, one woman. Intricate patterns of leaves and waves and flowers were woven around the faces.

"The five lords," Sirisa said in a hushed voice.

"Who were they?" Will asked. He kept his voice down, following her example. It seemed the right thing to do surrounded by all the painted eyes watching them.

"Lord Sakim, the lord of strength. Lord Deshui of wisdom. Lord Kamiki of nature. Lord Denisia of beauty and charm. Lord Huk of speech," Sirisa pointed to each face as she spoke. "Each ancient lord ruled in a different way. After they died, they went to serve the great god, _Furisath_, as we say."

Lillian was intrigued. "I studied Oramine customs, but I never heard of any of this."

Sirisa shrugged. "We don't like to advertise it." She reached up and gently took the painting down.

"Every Oramine gets to have their turn to house the painted lords. Because you are our honoured guests, you will be allowed to have the painting in your homestay." She explained. "Here."

Will took the painting from her. The frame was not real gold, he saw at once. It was painted wood and not very heavy. He could make out each individual oily brushstroke. It was painted with great skill. The painting weighed much less than he had expected for the thick canvas. He wondered breifly why the artist didn't paint on something thinner, then reasoned that they might not have had anything less thick in older times.

"Who painted it?" he asked, tracing the strokes with his finger.

"Our great ancestor." Sirisa shifted impatiently on her feet. Her eyes were darting from side to side and Will felt a slight misgiving. He pushed the doubt aside and focused on what she was saying. "He painted it to honour the greatest five kings of history. But then the Arasi, curse them, stole the painting and we had to fight them to get it back."

"Arasi?" Halt fingered his beard. "They're from the neighbouring country, aren't they?" He said it in a tone that indicated he already knew and was just making sure.

"That's right," Sirisa told him. She was walked to the door and beckoning to them. "They are our natural born enemies. Now come on, let's go."

She seemed very rushed, Will thought. He was about to say something when the door swung open. Sirisa leapt backwards in fright. It was Ruch.

"Sirisa.." he said, shaking his head slowly. "You didn't."

Sirisa tried to push past him, but he seized her wrists. Sensing the tense atmosphere, Will suddenly felt self conscious at holding the painting. Even more so when Ruch looked at him with open horror.

"Put it back," he said. "Quickly, before anyone sees."

Will heard the clumking sound of metal boots on a wooden floor. Three of them, he counted, all heavy men. Guards probably. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on. Halt gave him a nod so he took the painting back to it's stand and reached up to hang it on the wall.

He was standing with his arms above his head, in an open, vulnerable position, the painting still in his hands, when the guards reached them.

"Ruch!" one of them said in a warm greeting. Then, he let out a gasp. Will quickly hung the painting up and spun to face the guards, who were running at him. He leapt to the side.

One of them, the youngest one, turned and raced away to get help. The two facing Will drew their swords. He drew his two knives. They moved at the same time, lunging for him. He ducked and slipped forward, driving his saxe up under the chestplate of one man. The other fell to the ground, a ringing sound echoing in the air from where Halt had hit his helmet with the hilt of his saxe.

"Quickly, we must get away," Ruch urged them. He had his own sword drawn and lead the way. But when they emerged from the building, they found themselves surrounded by guards.

"Wait, you've got it all wrong!" Sirisa cried, hurrying forward. "I- mmph!"

A guard grabbed her and covered her mouth with his hand. He held his sword to her throat.

"Surrender or she dies!"

Will paused and glanced at his former mentor. Halt was watching the guard with narrowed eyes. That usually didn't bode well for an enemy. But Halt let out a breath and shrugged at Will.

"We'd never make it to the port, anyway," he said.

Will realised it was true. Their way was blocked by dozens of guards and if they fought their way past, which wasn't certain, they still had a way to go in a foreign country. Anyway, he couldn't just leave Sirisa to die in cold blood.

He dropped his knives on the ground. Ruch and Halt were disarming themselves as well. The Rangers unstrung their bows on orders and watched forlornly as an armed soldier took their weapons away. Without the comforting weight of the bow on his shoulder, Will felt the presence of the soldiers more strongly.

Their hands were bound in front of them. Their feet were bound too.

Will glanced around. How were they to walk with their feet bound? Ruch leaned towards him, seeing the question in his eyes.

"It is customery in Oramine for prisoners to be-"

A feirce pain over his ear and everything went black.

…...

A groan sounded in the hazy darkness. It took him a minute to work out that the noise was coming from his lips and that the thobbing was his head. He felt a gentle hand brushing over the feiry pain. Soft, cool fingers. He groaned again.

"They hit him hard," a deep voice said. A familiar voice, but he couldn't think of names at the moment.

"It was unecessary," A second voice said angrily "The guard was new and inexperianced, I saw."

"Will he be alright?" This voice was soft and feminine.

"He'll be fine," the first voice reassured her. It was a very reassuring voice. Comfort and security. A voice that meant he was safe. Safe throughout the five years of his apprenticeship. Halt.

And, in a rush, it all came back to him. Will sat up, gritting his teeth as his head throbbed in protest. The world blurred around him, but he held strong and was rewarded with a lessening of pain. He squinted around the prison room. It was wooden, like all Oramine buildings. There was no furniture, just ropes that bound them all to the wall. Outside, he could hear the guards prowling.

Halt was sitting beside him, an ugly bruise swelling the left half of his face. He gripped Will's forearm when he began to sway.

"M'okay," Will said with a weak grin. He touched his forehead and felt blood.

"Ranger Will?" Lillian asked. Her face was pale and taunt with worry.

He tried to put more heart into his grin. "I'm alright, really. Don't worry about me."

She flushed, looking away. "I wasn't worried," she muttered.

Will mocked hurt, but inside he was smiling. Lillian was a kind girl, he thought. Even though she didn't like coffee.

Sitting nearby, Ruch bowed his head. "I am very sorry," he said gravely. "Oramine can be so... predictable sometimes."

"Ruch," Halt said, leaning forward to catch the other mans eye. "I think it's time you told us exactly what's been going on."

Ruch sighed. "Yes, I fear you are right, Ranger Halt." He shifted on the hard floor to get more comfortable. "Perhaps the best place to start is that Oramin is divided in half. Half of us want a treaty and half of us want to remain on our own."

"You said that," Halt pointed out. Ruch dipped his head in acknoledgement.

"It has to be said that Oramin has had a few bad treaties in our history," he continued. "This was before the current Lord took over. Our allies gave away our secrets to Aras-the neighbouring country whom we are mortal enemies with. It was a bloody slaughter."

He closed his eyes. "I was a young toddler at the time. It was confusing and hazy. I don't remember much, just screaming and fire and blood. And that my parents were killed. Though I didn't understand death at the time."

"Oramine has always had their suspicions about foreigners but after that, I'm told it was noticible that their fear increased. No foreigner has been in Oramin since-until now. Such fears have been passed down from generation to generation, horror stories told. Everyone has been suppressing that fear and now it has slipped out of hand."

"Even if you were betrayed once, it doesn't mean all foreigners are bad," Lillian said in the following silence.

Sirisa, sitting against the wall with her knees drawn to her chin, let out a loud, disbelieving snort. Ruch looked at her sharply.

"You wanted to say something?" he asked. There was a note of steel in his scratchy voice.

"Foreigners are evil," Sirisa said in a low voice. "They are all traitors."

"Maybe, maybe not," Ruch said coldly. "But the only traitor I see here now is you, Sirisa. How could you do it?"

Then, when he remembered that the Araluens were still in the dark, he addressed them. "That painting, the Five Lords, is sacred to Oramin. For a foreigner to lay hands on it is unthinkable to most people. The penalty is death."

"H-how will they kill us?" Lillian asked in a small, frightened voice.

"They will send us into the wild," Ruch said. "No one escapes alive."

"They might not!" Sirisa said desperately. Even though he knew she had betrayed them, Will found it hard not to feel sorry for her. She was in the same boat as them now. In framing them, she had committed an unforgivable crime herself.

"They will," A flat, hopeless voice said.

Will started. With his pounding head and whirlwind of thoughts, he hadn't noticed that there was another person in the room.

"You're sure?" Halt asked. He didn't look surprised, but then, he never did. It was impossible to tell if he had noticed the other person.

"Yes," It was a man and he rolled over now. He had been wrapped in a brown, woollen cloak that blended into the dull light of the prison. His face was thin and bony, his cheek bones prominent and covered with a scruffy beard.

"Antil?" Ruch peered at the man and shook his head sadly.

"Hello, Ruch. Sirisa," Antil said in that flat, lifeless voice. Then he answered Halt's question. "I can be sure because I was formally sentenced to the Wild and so I know this is where they keep the lowest of the prisoners."

"He's right," Ruch said. "They always sort the prisoners into seperate buildings, depending on the sentence."

"We're dead," Sirisa said. She buried her face in her arms. "We're doomed. It's over." Her breath hitched in a sob.

"It's that bad?" Will asked quietly.

Sirisa sobbed louder. Antil stared at the wall, his face completely devoid of expression. Ruch gave them a sad look.

"The Wild is the place of horror stories. There is no going home. You live there for the rest of your days and then you die." he said. "It's a horrible punishment."

Halt met his eyes. "So that's it?" he asked. "We die?"

Ruch shrugged. "There is not much else to do."

Will narrowed his eyes. Alyss's face sprang to mind again. Her hair framing her delicate face. Her grey eyes shining with laughter. The scent of her perfume was vivid in his mind. The softness of her was such a well remembered touch that he felt as if she were right here with him. His hand strayed to the ring in his pocket. He couldn't die without asking her.

"I can think of something else to do," Will said and when the others looked at him, he gave them a meaningful nod. "We live."

**Sorry, really bad chapter. XD **

**Please review anyway?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Into the Wild**

**Chapter 5**

**AN: Stay with me, people. This is a dumb chapter, but I promise it will get better. **

The boat rocked gently on the fast flowing river. Will narrowed his eyes as he stared across the wide expanse of water. Jagged rocks stood out in places. On the other side, the dark tree line stood tall and ominous.

"So this is the dangerous river of Oramin," Will murmured. He was rewarded by the butt of a spear jabbing his ribs.

"Quiet prisoner!" a soldier ordered. Will grimanced. His hands were bound behind his back and he couldn't reach up to rub his bruised ribs.

Beside him, Halt, Lillian, Ruch, Sirisa and Antil were also bound. Oramine soldiers surrounded them, nudging them with spearpoints.

"Into the boat," one ordered.

"No!" Sirisa cried. Her legs collapsed under her and the soldiers had to hold her up. "No! I'm innocent, I swear! It's this lot that are the traitors! Send them! Not me! Please, have mercy!"

Will had to feel sorry for her, even though she had betrayed them. Tears were pouring down her face, making her nose run and her body shake violently. Ruch and Antil were silent, but white faced and tense. Clearly, fear of the wild had been ingrained in the Oramine from a young age.

"Get in!" The soldiers picked Sirisa up and threw her in the boat. She screamed and struggled desperately, biting down on a soldier's hand. The man cursed and held her in a headlock until her limbs stilled.

"In you go," The soldier by Will jabbed him with the spear. The young ranger stepped into the boat. The others followed him. Halt relaxed into his seat, apearing completely unconcerned. Will forced his own muscles to do the same and flashed Lillian a reassuring smile. The courier was tense and silent, her face drawn with fear.

"There are viscious fish in the water," Ruch told them quietly. "And the current is strong. It is impossible to swim."

That wasn't hard to see. The rowers were big men with muscles that flexed with every oar stroke. Sweat rolled down their skin. It was taking all their strength to keep the boat on course.

The boat pulled up on the bank. The soldiers shoved them off the boat. They had to lift Sirisa up and throw her onto the sand. None of the soldiers left the boat. They eyes the treeline nervously. Even they were afraid of the Wild.

Sirisa landed awkwardly. She leapt to her feet, biting and trying to grip the boat.

"No!" She cried. "No! Please! Have mercy! I'm not a traitor! Let me go home!"

The soldiers just laughed. They drew their swords. For a moment, Will thought they were about to attack and he tensed. But the soldiers just took hold of Sirisa and cut the ropes that bound her. She clawed at their faces. Two men had to hold her back while the others cut the rest of the ropes off the prisoners.

"Have fun," One soldier said. They pushed Sirisa away from the boat. The oars dipped into the water and they sailed back across the river. The prisoners were alone in the wild.

For a long moment, the world was frozen in time. Ruch leaned against a tree, rubbing his raw wrists. Lillian hugged herself for the meagre comfort it provided. Antil sat down on the ground. Sirisa had her hands in the water, her knees in the mud, sobbing her heart out.

"Come on," Halt urged. "We need a campsite before darkness falls."

Sirisa spun at him. "It's all your fault!" she yelled. "You stupid foreigners! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you all!"

She lunged forward, trying to tear his face with her nails but Halt grabbed her wrists and held her back easily.

"If we're going to survive, we have to work together," Halt said calmly. "And we _are _going to survive."

"There is no hope of survival," Antil disagreed. "We are the walking dead."

"Cheery people," Will said softly to his mentor. Halt rolled his eyes.

"Let's at least make a nice dry camp," Halt said. He was starting to lose patience, Will could see.

"What's the point?" Antil muttered sourly.

Halt took a deep breath. "The point is that we need a warm place to sleep for when darkness falls if we are going to live."

"We _aren't_ going to live!" Sirisa cried.

"It's better if we die now, rather than drag it out," Antil muttered.

"You will, if you keep that up!" Halt snapped, losing his temper. "But _I _am going to survive. Will, Lillian and I are going over there to set up a camp. If you don't want to join us, it doesn't matter to me. I just thought I'd give you a chance."

"I for one am most definitely joining you," Ruch said.

"Good," Halt said. They moved into the trees, following the grizzled ranger, until he decided there was a good enough spot to camp.

"Halt?" Will asked.

"What is it?" The ranger was only half paying attention, looking around the undergrowth for useful shelter making materials.

"How are we going to make a camp?" Will asked.

"We'll use these little sticks as a frame for a sheltor," Halt said, lifting the end of what was certainly not a little stick. It was, in fact, a small log. "I'll show you- when I lived with the Temujai, they showed me how to make this type of shelter."

The rangers and Ruch balanced the logs between trees, forming several v shaped skeletons. They tied them securely in place with the rope used to bind them. The soldiers had thankfully left it there for them to use.

"Most useful enemies I've ever encountered," Halt said, grunting as he pulled a knot tight.

"Except that they're the reason we're here in the first place," Will pointed out.

Halt thought for a second. "Yes, except that," he agreed.

"Here," Lillian dumped large leaves to the ground. Halt had asked her to gather them while the men rigged the shelters. They arranged them over the framework, along with whatever else they could find. Will discovered a patch of moss which they used to insulate the shelters.

It was when the work was done and the four of them stood back to study their shelters that Sirisa and Antil joined them.

"Thank you for the help," Halt said stiffly. "I assume you've changed your mind now and want to sleep in one?"

"That's right," Sirisa met his eyes with her own bloodshot ones. "Seeing as it's your fault we're here in the first place."

"_My _fault?" Halt raised his eyebrows. "That's not how I recall it."

Sirisa stomped off into a sheltor, curling up on her side and refused to say anymore. They had only made four, so Halt and Will decided they would share, Antil and Ruch would share and the girls would have one each.

The rangers set up some snares around, but the light was beginning to fade. There would be no food to eat tonight.

"Got your flint?" Halt asked. All rangers carried one with them for easy fire starting.

"Yes, you?" Will replied.

"Of course."

They were both experienced campers and it didn't take them long to gather a bundle of firewood and light a campfire. Everyone was tired and they didn't linger around the campfire. Halt and Will curled up in their cloaks, huddled together to retain body warmth.

"I would think this is going to be a very uncomfortable night," Will said.

"We'll cope," Halt shrugged. "And after all, things could be worse."

And by morning, things would be worse. Much, much worse.

**Sorry it's so short. I couldn't seem to drag it out...**

**Bad chapter, I know. Next one will be longer, I promise. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

One moment Will was sleeping, the next he was wide awake. Something had woken him. He kept his breathing light, as he had been trained to do. There was something close by, rustling outside the sheltor.

A wild animal? It was possible, but it surprised him. The fire should have kept animals away- that was why they had not set a watch. Unless the fire had died down. Again, he doubted it. He and Halt had taken turns to get out of bed to tend it during the night.

"You hear it too?" Halt said, very very softly in Will's ear.

"Yeah," Will breathed.

"There's more than one," Halt said. The second he said it, Will realised it was true. He could hear a fainter rustling in another direction. The one that was closest must be right by their shelter. It was breathing heavily, long rasping breaths.

"Should've set a watch," Halt muttered to himself. Ruch had assured them that there were no people in the Wild- it was much too dangerous. But something was out there.

Will quickly summed up the situation. They had no weapons. His bow and knives had been confiscated when they were imprisoned. That was bad enough. Worse was their position. The sheltor was cramped, especially for two people. The roof was too low to sit up. They were lying with their heads at the back where it was warmest, their feet at the entrance. To get out, they would have to wiggle bakwards, which would make them extremely vulnerable.

On the other hand, if whatever was out there found the entrance to their shelter, they would be even more vulnerable.

The deciding factor was the others. As far as Will knew, they were inexperienced at fighting. If the enemy found them, one of the rangers would have to come to their aid. To do that, they had to get out of the shelter.

Halt had come to the same conclusion. He raised himself on his elbows and toes, preparing to slip out as fast as he could.

Everything happened incredibly fast from there.

Halt slid backwards out the shelter. Just before he did the same, Will heard a yell and a flurry of noise. He scrambled out, leaping to his feet, his mind seconds behind his body. Halt was engaged fighting three men, all armed with crude spears. Will leapt to his aid, but they were severely disadvantaged by their lack of weapons.

The spearmen were all darkskinned, with matted, wild hair. Their skin was tattoed with scars and strange markings. They wore animal skins and had bones around their necks, or in their hair. Will was reminded of the tribespeople in the Solitary plains back in Araluen.

He found himself completely on the defensive, trying to avoid the sharp end of the spear. Vagually, he registered a scream from one of the girls and saw Ruch out the corner of his eye. He also saw more of the spearmen closing in on them. There must have been twenty in all.

Then Halt gave a brief cry of pain. It was a chilling sound. Will spun around in horror, just in time to see a triumphant snarl from a spearman as he pulled his spear from Halt's stomache.

"Halt!" Will yelled in complete horror. The older ranger fell to the ground, clutching his stomache. The wild man that had wounded him raised his spear to finish him off.

With a rush of strength Will didn't know he possessed, he ducked under the spear coming towards him, kicked his own attacker to the side and seized the spear threatening Halt. He ripped it from the hands of the spearman and, not bothering to reverse it, jammed the handle under the mans chin, dislocating his jaw.

There was no time to check how badly Halt was wounded. Will wrapped his arms around his mentors shoulders and lifted him to his feet. Halt staggered against him, trying to push him away, no doubt not wanting to burden his old apprentice. But Will refused to let go.

He gripped the spear tightly, stabbing at the men, trying to find a gap where he could break through and run. Then suddenly, one fell over with a grunt of surprise and Ruch was there, holding a tree branch.

Will took the opportunity, dragging his mentor with him as he sprinted for the trees. He knew it would not be doing Halt's injuries any good, but nor would it be good for Halt if they both died.

"Wake up!" Will yelled at the other shelters. "Wake up and run!"

Lillian slipped out of her shelter. She took one look at the spearmen, screamed loudly, and raced away from the camp. With Will having to help Halt, who was managing a stumbling run, she caught up to him easily.

Antil also ran with them. Sirisa was nowhere to be seen.

There was no way in hell they could outrun the tribesmen, Will thought. Ruch and Lillian were already panting. Halt's breaths came in ragged gasps as well, though from his injury.

"We can't outrun them," Antil said flatly.

Will glared at him. Then he realised the Oramine man was only telling the truth. "No, we can't," he agreed.

"So we die," Antil said.

"So we look for another way," Will glared at him. "We have to hide."

"Easy for you," Lillian said through her pants. "You're a ranger." She too had an air of helplessness around her.

Will glanced behind him. He couldn't see the spearmen, but that wasn't saying much. It was, after all, the middle of the night and he couldn't see much.

"Ruch take my cloak and lie still in the bushes. Antil, Lillian, we're going to climb a tree. Just make sure to stay very still when you spot the tribesmen," Will said.

"Wait, I can't climb trees well!" Lillian squeaked.

"What's the point?" Antil muttered. "We're just dragging out our deaths."

Will ignored their complaints. He undid the clasp of his cloak, letting it fall to the ground. He gently pushed Halt into the undergrowth, making sure the older ranger was covered with his own cloak. Glancing around, he spotted a bush rustling where Ruch was adjusting his position. Antil was climbling slowly up a tree, with no urgency at all. Will spotted Lillian struggling and quickly moved to her position. He gave her a boost up and helped her find a fork to sit in. It wasn't as high as he would have liked, but it would have to do.

Will himself climbed smoothly up to a higher position. He still had the spear with him and was confident if the spearmen spotted any of them, he could swing down easily to attack. How long he could survive was another matter entirely.

He gritted his teeth as the spearmen approached. Antil was obvious to Wills trained eyes, even in the darkness. Lillian wasn't much better. But once more it was proved correct that people seldom look up and the men passed them by.

Will forced himself to wait while he counted to one hundred, just in case any of them doubled back, even though his whole body itched to tend to Halt's wounds.

"One hundred," he muttered under his breath, swinging down from the tree. He pushed away the leaves that covered his mentor. Halt's eyes were shut and a thrill of panic travelled up Will's spine.

"Halt?" he hissed, shaking the ranger gently. Halt groaned and his eyelids fluttered. Ruch came over, taking the ranger cloak off.

"I don't know who those men were," he said, perhaps feeling the need to defend what he'd said about no one surviving the wild. Will didn't have the energy to reply. He was busy pulling Halt's shirt up to see the extent of the wound.

Ruch sucked in a breath at the sight of it. "That's bad," he said. "I've seen plenty of men die from wounds like that."

Will looked at him in horror. "He's not going to die!" he cried. "Halt can't die!"

"There's no medicine here," Ruch shook his head slowly.

"Of course there is!" Will stood up abrutly. "Medicine comes from plants, look at all these plants!" he ripped off a handful of leaves, thructing them at the old man's face. "These! Do these look familiar at all?" He grabbed another handful from a different plant. "Or these? Or these? There must be something!"

Ruch held up his hands in defence. "If there was, I'm not the right person to ask. But..." he glanced over at Antil, who was standing back, his face blank and hopeless.

"He will die," Antil said flatly. "And then we will die."

"No!" Will cried. Hopelessness was building up in his own chest, threatening to burst out of him. Tears were blurring the corners of his eyes and he had to fight to keep them from spilling. He held out his hand. It was shaking. "No one is dying!"

"Sirisa may already be dead," Antil said, with an uncaring shrug. "She ran off."

"Well, Halt doesn't die! He can't! He's Halt!" Will stared miserably down at his mentors pale face. He rested a helpless hand on Halt's forehead. The ranger already had a raging fever. It wouldn't be long before infection kicked in.

"Ranger Will, please calm down," Ruch pleaded. "Isn't it best to apply a field dressing first?"

Will forced himself to take a deep breath. "Yes, you're right."

He tore off his sleeve used it to bandage Halt's stomache. It wasn't much, wasn't nearly enough. A wound that deep needed medical care and attention, not a rough bandage. At the very least, a poultuce or painkiller would be useful, but he had nothing of the kind with him.

"You are going to be fine, Halt," he said, trying to convince himself, not the bearded ranger that lay groaning, barely conscious.

"Will?" a small, hesitant voice in the night.

"What is it, Lillian?" Will kept his eyes focused on his mentors face.

"I can't get down the tree," she confessed.

"Next time, she can use the cloak," Ruch said, moving to help the girl, "I'll climb the tree."

"Oh, but..." Lillian began then stopped herself.

Ruch laughed. "Just because I'm old doesn't mean I can't climb trees. Every Oramine is a master tree climber, I'll have you know."

"We need to remake our sheltors," Will said wearily. "Only deeper in, in the opposite direction from where the spearmen went."

"We have to find Sirisa first," Ruch said. "I'm not leaving her behind."

"Does it matter?" Antil said. "We're all dead any-"

"Shut up!" Will snapped at him. The others jerked back in shock. "Just shut up," he repeated in a quieter voice. "If you want, you can go jump in the river with the current and carnivorous animals I've heard about. No one is stopping you. I don't care. Either help, or leave me the hell alone."

"Don't go jump in the river," Lillian said quicky, an anxious look on her face. "He didn't mean that, I'm sure."

"You can't move him in that condition," Antil nodded towards Halt. "His wound has already been worsened by your mad dash to hide from the spearmen."

"What else was I supposed to do?" Will said. "I didn't have a choice."

"W-we could make a stretcher for him?" Lillian said shyly, blushing when everyone looked at her. "I've seen healers do that at home..."

"Yes, good thinking," Will agreed.

"How are you going to make a stretcher?" Antil asked, his tone leaving no doubt he thought the task was impossible.

"We'll go back to the campsite and get the rope," Will said. "All we have to do is tie some sticks together, it won't be comfortable, but he'll live."

"He might not," Antil said.

"He will!" Will insisted. "Halt is strong, he'll be fine."

"I'm not leaving without Sirisa," Ruch said stubbornly.

"Alright, you said that already. It's too easy to get lost in the dark anyway." Will said. "We'll have to spend the rest of the night here and hope Sirisa turns up."

"And if she doesn't?" Ruch challenged.

"We'll worry about that in the morning," Will replied. "We need to set watches." he grimanced as he looked around his allies. Lillian wasn't used to camping out in uncomfortable places. Ruch was old and clearly tired, his body might not be able to cope without sufficient rest and Antil just didn't seem to care. He might not even wake the others if anything came. Will realised he didn't trust any of them to keep watch.

He shivered, pulling his cloak tightly around himself. "Come over here," he instructed. "We'll need each others body warmth to survive the night."

"Eh?" Lillian's blushed deeply.

"It's a survival strategy," Will told her. "You'll freeze on your own."

"But-but-!" Lillian stammered, hugging herself against the cold.

"Please, Lillian, I need you to keep Halt warm," Will said.

She moved over and Will carefully positioned them so that Lillian, who he trusted the most, was curled up next to Halt. Antil was next to her, and Ruch next to him. Will himself was on Halt's other side.

"I'll take first watch," Ruch suggested. Will shook his head.

"I can't sleep anyway, I'll do it," he said and prepared himself for a long night, his mind strained trying to listen to the sounds of the night and Halt's raggid breathing for any change.

**Will's a little bit tired and cranky :) I can't blame him, Lillian and the Oramine are so useless. **

**It may be a while until the next update- I could only do this one because I'm sick, but I'll be back at school tommorrow. (Just recovering) **

**And I'm failing Chemistry...and I have homework... so I won't be updating for a while probably. Unless anyone really wants me too, then I suppose the weekend is coming up...**

**Reviews will be used as medicine for Halt- like the hunger games donations haha. **

**Just joking, but review anyway? **


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Mornings light bought no comfort to the outcasts. Will rose with a groan, stretching the aches out of his muscles. He blinked bleary eyes at the blue sky filtering through the treetops.

"Will?" Ruch joined him, stretching the kinks out of his muscles.

"Morning," Will said, then crouched back down beside Halt. In the light, Will could see that his skin was sweaty and pale, his body trembling ever so slightly, eyes shut tight, blood and pus leaking from under the bandages.

"Halt?" Will whispered fearfully, taking a limp hand in his. The heartbeat was still there, though fluttery.

"You didn't wake me for a watch," Ruch said. Will shrugged it away. He hadn't been able to sleep anyway.

"We should clean his wound," Ruch said, seeing that he was getting no reply.

"We need water," Will said, his voice slightly husky. "Injured people need lots of water."

"He's not going to get enough water," Antil said quietly.

Will shot him a look of pure hatred. "He will be fine," the young ranger growled. His head was foggy with exhaustion and he was in no mood to humour the Oramine.

"I'm thirsty," Lillian's eyes fluttered open. She sat up, rubbing her arms where the rough ground had left small marks on her skin. "And hungry."

"Deal with it," Will snapped. He closed his eyes, trying to think through the heavy fog in his mind. Halt couldn't be alone. Will would have to stay with him. But could he trust the Oramine to fetch water? Sirisa had betrayed them, after all. They'd have to make a stretcher for Halt first and take him with them.

"We'll use the rope from our camp," Will said. "Ruch, can you go back and get as much as you can?"

"For the stretcher?" Ruch guessed. "I'm not leaving without Sirisa."

"I know, I know," Will waved the objection away. "Can you just get them please and we'll worry about her later?"

Ruch nodded and moved away in the forest.

"Is it safe for him?" Lillian asked nervously, her eyes flickering around.

"Of course not," Will knelt back down beside Halt. He was too exhausted to hold her hand and comfort her. She would just have to deal with things like the rest of them. "But no more dangerous than here."

Halt groaned, his eyes flickering under the lids. Will pressed a hand to his former master's forehead. Heat radiated to his palm. A high fever.

"Will..?" Halt slurred.

"I'm here," Will assured him. Halt manged to crack one eyelid open a slit. He muttered something inaudable.

"What was that?" Will asked, leaning his head down until Halt's uneven breath tickled his ear.

"Go outside...practise archery," the injured ranger muttered. "Just 'cause I'm sick...doesn't mean...can have a holiday..."

Tears prickled at the corners of Will's eyes. His mentor was delusional. He thought they were back in history. Back when Will was a skinny apprentice.

"He's not lucid," Antil said, finding a bent tree trunk to take a comfortable seat on. "That is never a good sign."

Will shot him a death glare. Antil shrugged disdainfully, brushing a stray leaf from his tree trunk. The action seemed out of place in his torn, dirt covered clothes, crooked teeth, coarse hands and his tangled beard and hair. Red rimmed bleary eyes fixed on an indefinable point in front of him, moving only after minutes had passed.

Lillian stooped awkwardly on the ground, wrapping her arms around her drawn up knees. She glanced at Halt, grimanced, and looked away.

Ruch returned with his arms full of branches from their shelter. Will frowned at the sight of him.

"Ruch, what about the rope?" he pointed out. That had been the most important thing.

"It was gone," Ruch dipped his head apologetically. "Those wild people must have taken it all."

Will cursed to himself, glancing at Halt. The older ranger had drifted back into unconsciousness.

"Then how are we going to make the stretcher?" Antil eyed them impassively, completely unconcerned. Will gritted his teeth. He could see that the man would do nothing to help.

"Maybe we should stay here?" Ruch suggested. "Build a shelter and look for Sirisa."

Will closed his eyes and took deep, calming breaths. There was no other real alternative. Without a secure stretcher, it would be dangerous to move Halt in his condition. He had no choice but to trust the Oramine.

"Fine, we'll build shelters here," Will said. The others looked at him, expecting commands. He glanced around the forestry. The best way, he decided, was to make five small, separate shelters, one for each of them, by stacking sticks around the low branches. He gave the others a brief description of how he was thinking and they set to work.

It took hours. Antil refused to help, he just sat on his log, watching them with dead eyes. Lillian tried her best, but she didn't have the strength needed to continuously carry large branches over to her assigned tree.

Eventually, they had three acceptable shelters, lined with ferns and moss to keep out any rain. Will had made his beside Halt's position and he now set to work building a roofing of sorts over his mentor, to block the worst of the weather. He kept the sides open for easy access.

Lillian slumped outside her shelter when Ruch had helped her finish it. He and Will then worked on a shelter for Antil, though he only raised an eyebrow at them, and at Ruchs persistant urging, a shelter for Sirisa.

By the time they had completed this, the sun was high in the sky, a bright light filtering down through the canopy. Will sat beside his mentor, stroking his salt and pepper hair back from his clammy forehead.

"Will?" Ruch knelt down beside him, a crease in his brow. "I think we should go look for Sirisa."

Will's eyes narrowed. He shook his head, a short, sharp movement, and didn't look up from Halt. The older rangers muttered something, a gleaming bead of sweat trickling down his cheek.

"I-I can look after Ranger Halt," Lillian started forward. Her hands were clasped in front of her, twisting together.

"I'm not leaving him," Will said. It would be different if only a close friend was with him, Horace or Alyss or Evanlyn or anyone he could trust with his life. He liked Lillian, but he didn't know her well enough to leave a wounded Halt with her. What if Halt woke up? She didn't know him well enough to know that when he insisted he was fine, it didn't mean he was.

"Well, I'm going to look for Sirisa," Ruch said with a sigh.

"N-no!" Lillian cried. "We shouldn't separate!"

"It doesn't make a difference does it? We're all going to die anyway." Antil dropped from his log and stretched his arms, a yawn escaping his lips.

"Antil, will you come with me to look for Sirisa?" Ruch asked.

Antil shrugged, his flat eyes fixing the older man in a stare. "I was under the impression Sirisa had betrayed you."

Ruch shook his head. "She has had a rough life. Her parents were killed by the Arasi and since then, she has harboured a grudge for foreigners."

The Arasi, Will knew, were the neighbouring people to the Oramine. They were supposed to be mortal enemies that had always hated each other. He wiped the sweat from Halt's forehead. Even though he knew, better than anyone, the pain of growing up parentless, and he sympathised with Sirisa, all he could see was the blood stained bandage around his mentors stomache. She had betrayed them and it was her fault that Halt was in the condition he was.

"Alright, I'll go alone," Ruch sighed. He slipped away between the trees. Long after he had left, they could still hear his calls drifting around the forest.

…...

Sirisa was curled up the top of a tree, wedged in a fork. Her hair had lost it's sleekness, it tangled around her shoulders, greasy and unwashed. She wrapped her arms around her knees, persistant tears blurring her vision.

It wasn't fair. She had always been loyal, always kind, even as a child when an older girl with parents had bullied her. Sirisa had never harmed the girl, even after that one time the bully's older brother had beaten her.

It wasn't fair at all that all the horrible things happened to her! She didn't deserve to be in the Wild. She didn't deserve to die!

"Sirisa?"

The woman jerked up in shock. Someone was calling for her! She slid lower down the tree, then paused. Could it be a trap? Perhaps the foreigners had come up with a plan to kill her. After all, they were enemies.

But the call came again and this time, she recognised the voice. Ruch. Ruch who had listened to her when she was younger, who had comforted her as she told him about her parents and the bullies and how much she absolutely _hated _foreigners.

Ruch wouldn't betray her, she was sure of it. Even though she had betrayed him, a nagging voice told her. Sirisa pushed it away. She had hatched a plot to get rid of the foreigners, that was all. She surely couldn't be blamed for how badly things had turned out, could she?

No, it wasn't her fault, not at all. She took a steadying breath and swung down to the forest floor.

"Ruch?" she called, tentatively.

"Sirisa!"

She followed the sound of his voice, while he followed hers.

"Ruch!" She cried when she spotted his familiar face and, because she was so caught up with relief and fear all at once, she flung her arms around his neck.

"Sirisa, come with me. We've made you a shelter, it's all going to be fine. We'll get out of this alive," Ruch told her, his voice muffled against her shoulder. She shook her head. Nothing was fine, nothing had ever been fine, but she couldn't bring herself to ruin the moment, just as she couldn't bring herself to apologise for eveything she'd done.

…...

Will glanced up as Ruch and Sirisa returned to camp. The woman brushed past him without a word. She settled down in her shelter, as shown to her by Ruch, her eyes red and swollen.

"Uhm, welcome back," Lillian attempted to approach the older woman but Sirisa looked away.

"Leave me be, foreigner," she said, her voice low and husky.

Lillian flushed and found a leaf to fiddle with, tearing it into little pieces. Ruch crouched by Sirisa, who crossed her arms, staring into the distance with her lips trembling. Antil still had the same blank look of a hopeless man and Will turned back to his mentor, watching for any change, either good or bad.

**I had the idea for this story before the ninth book came out, I just never got around to writing it. I'm trying not to copy the book- I mean, the whole, Halt's peril concept. It's hard, trying to keep them in character and still make Halt and Will's interactions a bit different from the book. Do you know what I mean? I'm having trouble explaining it.**

**Oh yeah, did I mention a Criminal Minds episode was the inspiration for this story? The chess bit, I mean. Anyone watched it? **


	8. Chapter 8

**Well, I have to say, I don't have a very clear picture of where this story is going and it's making it most difficult to write...Well, I kind of know- it's just very hazy. If anyone has any ideas of 'challenges' they'd have to face in the wild, I'd love to hear them. **

**Chapter 8**

Logically, Will knew he needed to eat, but his stomache was churning with anxiety for his mentor, and he had a raging thirst, so he didn't actually feel hungry. He did, however, have a parched throat and his tongue was gummy.

Halt too needed to drink. The wounded always needed plenty of water. So it seemed to Will that his only choice was to go to the river and bring back water, and see if he could find some food while he was at it. To do that he would have to leave Halt unattended.

"I'm thirsty," Lily whined. She was leaning against the base of a tree, eyes half closed.

"Oh, don't be such a weakling, _foreigner_," Sirisa snapped, her voice filtering through the walls of her shelter. Lily flushed, indignant.

"I'm not the one who ran away. And if it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here in there first place! Right Will?" Tears were building up in her eyes, tears of frustration and misery. She looked to Will for support against Sirisa and found none- he was busy debating whether or not he should leave Halt and he didn't want to fight with any of his unwilling allies.

"I'll go to the river and fetch us all water," Ruch said, rising from his position on a fallen log. They all had waterskins, since the guards had seen no reason to confiscate them. Will stood up as well.

"I'll go too," he said, eyes alight with determination. The others were surprised- it was the first time he'd been willing to leave Halt's side. "I want to set up snares anyway, we need every morsal of food we can get." He steeled himself and in his mind, he could hear Halt guiding him, _believe in yourself and others will believe in you too. _Or was it Gilan who had said that? Probably both of them at one time or another. Now, he had to take charge and believe in his capabilities. He would not let the Oramine see his doubt; the thoughts that if Halt were well enough, things would be going so much more smoothly.

"I'll go to the river. Ruch, can you stay here and watch Halt for me?" Out of all of them, Ruch was the one Will trusted the most. He didn't think the old Oramine would abandon Halt if anything happened.

Ruch nodded immediately. "I'm happy to stay, though I myself believe it to be better if Antil stays with him."

Will frowned. He had already passed off the dispirited Antil as useless. Nonetheless, he nodded, content that Ruch would make sure nothing happened to Halt.

"Alright, Ruch and Antil stay here and guard our camp," he said. "Sirisa, Lillian, come with me."

"Why do we have to come?" Sirisa complained. Lillian shot her a glare.

"_I'm _happy to come Will."

Sirisa snorted, rolling her eyes. "Oh, you're happy to do anything he asks, aren't you? You spinless..."

"Stop argueing!" Will snapped, losing his patience with the both of them. "Look we have to work together..." his voice trailed off as he noticed both girls were glaring at each other and paying him no attention. He sighed, cast a lingering look at Halt, then ordered the girls to follow him.

It was tough going through the forest. Vines and branches tangled around one another, matted clumps of greenery forcing the young ranger to find another way around. It would be easy to get lost and his only navigation was his ears- he listened to the sound of running water.

As they walked, Lily plucked out strings from her jacket and left them in bushes, as was Will's instruction. By leaving a trail behind them, he would be able to find his way back to Halt. It did occur to him that the tribes people they had seen on their first night might be able to track them, but in the tangle of leaves he wasn't confident he could retrace his steps without the aid of the string.

They reached the river and Will took a moment to stare out over the wide expanse of rushing water. He could barely see the line of land on the other side, and he sighed to himself. At some stage, they would have to attempt to cross the river.

Unless...

A thought edged into his mind. There were Skandians along the Insee river, maybe the two rivers were connected. And if so, he could hope to walk along the bank until he met them.

"We could get the Skandians to pick us up," he said, voicing the thought carefully, as if it might blow away with the wind. Lillian didn't even blink.

"I studied the land," she muttered. "The Insee river, where the Skandians are, is completely different to this river, called the M'besh'd'lin, or river of no return. They don't meet at any point."

The vague hope fizzled away. "Ah," Will sighed. "Well, good thing you studied so hard, huh?"

"That's not what you thought on the boat," Lillian said stiffly. He had no reply to that, and it annoyed him at the tense air between everyone. Halt had taught him that good relationships made it a lot easier to work together.

Sirisa had moved to the waters edge and filled her water skin. She watched the river warily, as if some great sea monster would leap up at her. Her manner was starting to rub off on Will. He too could feel a prickling sensation, like something dangerous was sneaking up on them.

Lillian glanced around nervously and the young ranger kicked himself- he had to stay calm and think. He was well trained and he couldn't hear anything rustling around in the bushes. Which wasn't to say there couldn't possibly be anything there, they might be being watched by wild eyes, but there was no point in worrying about it if it wasn't certain.

He crouched down and filled his waterskin, then Ruch's, Antil's and Halt's. Lillian and Sirisa had finished and were waiting for him. He glanced back at the tense girls and flashed them a smile.

And Sirisa's eyes widened suddenly and she backed away from the river, her hands forming a sign to ward off evil.

And a splitting pain spread through Will's hand. The swear word exploded from his lips and he dropped the water skin, leaving it at the mercy of the current. The surface of the water rippled and a silver scaly back appeared, slipping back down beneath the murky depths, and dragging Will with it. He realised the creature- some kind of giant fish- had bitten down on his hand.

He choked and gurgled, clawing at the bank with his free hand, tearing dents in the soil with his hands. The water lapped around him, surrounded him, stinging his eyes. A green tendril of some weed wavered in front of his eyes. He twisted around and felt for the massive fish that held him. The splintering pain in his hand forced tears from his eyes, tears that mixed with the water.

Will felt the rough gills on the fish. His heart was pounding, and his lungs burned for air. He needed to breathe soon, he had to break free of the fish or else he might really die here.

He didn't want to die. Not with Alyss waiting for him. Alyss. He still had her ring safely tucked away in his shirt pocket. He had to get back alive to propose to her! He had to! It wasn't going to end like this!

He shoved the fish's eyes and felt the slackening of its jaw. Will pulled his arm free and swam to the surface. He didn't pause to check if the monster was following him, he wouldn't have been able to see anyway past the murky grey. And red passed his eyes too, red blood mingling with the water.

His face broke the water and he took great gulping breaths of air. He grabbed the long grass by the bank and heaved himself up, desperate to get out of the water, before the monster fish attacked him again. He had enough presence of mind through his panic to notice Sirisa and Lillian pale faced and bickering.

"You should have said something about the monster earlier!" Lillian was saying. "If you had only said something, Will wouldn't be-"

"Oh please," Sirisa scoffed. "You-"

"A little help?" Will interrupted, struggling to drag himself clear of the river with one injured hand. The girls looked over, shocked, and hurried over to pull him up. He flopped on the ground, gasping for air and clutching his injured hand.

"You're alive," Lillian breathed in relief. She gave him a quick hug and even Sirisa looked pleased.

"It's good that you're alive ranger," the Oramin said, some of her 'foreign dealing' charm returning to her, and smiling a faint smile that resembled the one she had plastered on her face upon first meeting them.

Will shook his head, beyond words. He managed to sit up and checked his wounds. His hand was covered in little holes from needle like teeth. It hurt like hell, but he thought it would heal well enough as long as it didn't get infected. He rolled onto his front and coughed up water. Lillian patted his back awkwardly.

"I'm okay," he gasped.

Sirisa gazed out over the river. "That must have been the famed river monster," she said. "We call it M'k Undane. It once killed a party of soldiers when they were sailing over the river."

"Sailing to condemn prisoners to the wild, you mean," Lillian pointed out. "They deserved to die."

Sirisa shot her a poisonous look. "Typical of a foreigner. You don't care about the prisoners, you only care now its you in trouble."

"You can't talk about not caring!" Lillian's face flushed with rage. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here!" Her voice was shrill and it was giving Will a splitting headache.

"Enough, both of you," he croaked, still grimancing with pain. His head was swimming and he was nauseas. "Just..just stop. Lillian, can you tear a bandage from my cloak and bind my hand please?"

"Ah, okay," Lillian ripped a strip of cloth, but she paused over the bleeding hand. A bead of sweat dropped down her forehead, and her mouth shifted in distaste.

"I'll do it," Sirisa muttered. She took the cloth and bound Will's hand, quite proffessionally. "You're a Jujuoan, Lillian. That's our word for weakling."

"I'm not weak," Lillian protested.

"We know you're not," Will sighed. He was getting sick to death of their argueing. "Thank you for doing my hand, Sirisa." The Oramin shrugged, waving the matter away. She was being surprisingly helpful today, Will thought. Perhaps with some more time, she could become someone to be trusted. Lillian too- he already trusted the girls heart, but her skills were another matter.

But he couldn't be too trusting. After all, Sirisa had betrayed them in the first place. He shouldn't let himself forget that.

They gathered the waterskins, minus one, and searched around the forest for found a patch of berries that Sirisa claimed were often eaten in Oramin and proved this by wolfing several down without dieing. They gathered as many of they could, and, encouraged by the find, ventured further away from the river where they found almonds.

By the time they returned to the camp, they were in a fairly good mood because of this. They showed the others their find. Ruch was delighted and Antil, for all the morbid complaining he did, helped himself to many of the berries. Will dribbled water past Halt's cracked lips and squeezed berry juice. He was intent on his task and didn't pay much attention to the squabbling that had sprung up between Sirisa and Lillian, and the whispered conversation of Ruch and Antil.

"Wake up any time," Will murmured to his mentor. "I really need your help." Halt stirred, but did not open his eyes.

"He was awake and lucid not too long ago," Ruch said. Will clenched his fists, frustrated that he hadn't been there. "He asked after you and seemed pleased when I told him you were searching for food."

Will sighed. He lit a fire and the lick of flame provided welcome comfort. He couldn't bear to look at his mentor's ill face any longer so decided to try repair some of the gaps between his allies.

"Why don't we tell each other a little about ourselves," he said, hoping this might coax them all into friendship. Will told them how he was a ranger, what he did for Araluen and how he and Halt shared the fief of Redmont. He then urged Lillian to tell the Oramine about couriers.

"You already know what I do," Sirisa said when he prompted her. "I'm appointed head of foreign dealings."

"But when there are no foreigners around, she cooks," Ruch supplied.

Sirisa scowled in his direction. "That's not any concern of a foreigner."

"What about you Ruch?" Will prompted. "What do you do?"

"I advise," Ruch shrugged. "I suppose you could say I'm a retired knight."

"And Antil?" Will smiled at the other man.

"What does it matter," the sour faced Oramin replied. "We'll-"

"All be dead. Yeah I know," Will rolled his eyes, quite sick of the man.

"It sounds to me as if you're avoiding the question, old friend," Ruch said, his eyes hardening. "In fact, enough is enough. If you won't tell them, I will."

Antil turned away, disgusted. Sirisa perked up, now looking just as curious as Will.

"What's his job?" she asked, clearly no more informed than the Araluens.

"It is of no importance," Antil said flatly. "There is no way we will survive."

Ruch stirred the coals of the fire with a stick. "Antil is a healer," he said.

Will sat up. "A healer?" Relief washed over him, laced with confusion. "You mean, you can see to Halt? That's why Ruch thought you should stay here! You can keep Halt alive! But why didn't you tell me earlier Ruch?" As he said it, a sense of hopeless realisation slammed into him, and with it, fury. He knew why, he didn't have to ask. Because Antil thought they would all die. Because Antil wasn't going to even try to heal Halt.

The healer confirmed it. "I won't check your friend's wounds, or your hand. There's no point in stretching out the inevitable."

**_believe in yourself and the others will believe in you too. _I think Gilan said something like that in book 2.**

**An inconsistancy: At the start of this Will was an apprentice. Well, I've changed my mind. He's now a fully fledged ranger. Hm, let's just pretend it was always like that, yeah?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"_There's no point in stretching out the inevitable."_

Will's hands were trembling. His shoulders shook. The world reddened in front of his eyes- red trees; red people; red as a passionate rose; red as the freshest of blood. Anger rose within him, not searing, burning anger, no. This was a cold feeling, cold and red and chilling.

"What kind of a healer will sit back and let a patient _die!" _Will's voice rose in crescendo until the very last word, that split the forest and plummeted to silence when no one responded.

He didn't care what anyone else was doing. Perhaps Lillian was glancing around, nervous at the volume. Perhaps Sirisa was scoffing at the other girl's reaction. Will didn't care, not at all. He would not look away from the dead eyes of Antil that faced him. Dead, hopeless eyes.

"_Answer me!_" Will demanded. Halt stirred at the loud noise, muttering something indefinable. Will glanced back at him, anxious, his anger growing.

"I don't care if it _is _helpless, you will treat Halt's wound!" the young ranger yelled. Antil shook his head. "_You will! You will!_"

"Calm down," Ruch tried to sooth him, reaching a hand to his shoulder. Will shook him off. He leapt to his feet and seized the healer by his collar. Antil's eyes widened in surprise, the first real emotion he had shown.

"I won't stand for this!" Will snapped. "I'll make you treat him! I bet you know healing plants around here somewhere that would help him!" He glanced around the forest, eyes wild, maddened.

"Maybe I do," Antil muttered. Will turned back to him. Their faces were close together; there was no one else in their little world of hate. Of red ice anger. "But it doesn't matter. We're all going-"

"If you want to die so much, I'll kill you!" Will screamed at him. He was lost and furious, lost in this hazy world of fear. What if Halt really didn't make it? What if he died? There couldn't be a world without the ranger Halt! It was inconceivable! Impossible!

"Will!" Ruch was appalled at the threat.

"What did I tell you," Will heard Sirisa mutter through a haze of fury, "foreigners are all the same. Violent, uncontrollable beasts."

"I swear I'll kill you if you don't help Halt," Will growled, losing his raised volume. "I swear I will."

Antil stared at him. The threat was useless. He'd already resigned himself to death.

"Will, if you kill him, he'll definitely never help," Ruch pointed out. Will shook his head. Frustrated tears blinded his vision, spilling down his cheeks. He choked, coughed, his breath coming in raggid gasps. Antil was no use, dead or alive. If Halt had to die, then so did this pathetic, whiny man.

"He'll never help anyway," Will spat. He tightened his grip around Antil's collar, blood spilling from his injured hand as he applied pressure to the wound.

Antil still just stared at him, not uttering a sound. There was a slight grimance on his face at being held in such a way.

Will hated him. He hated this man. This stupid, horrid healer who was going to sit back and watch them all die. Hated him! He kept one hand secure on the collar as the other bunched into a fist, ready to pummel this man and make him pay for sentencing Halt to death and-

"Stop Will."

He froze. His hand relaxed at his side and he thrust the useless healer away from him. Lillian had tears in her eyes, Sirisa was staring at him in disgust, Ruch appeared disappointed and Antil lay on the ground, still silent. And Halt had his eyes open, one hand resting on his stomache, a look of stern disapproval on his face and, though weak, he had been the one to speak.

"Halt," Will whispered, the tears still streaming down his cheeks. He wiped them away, suddenly embarrassed at his weakness. Impulsively, he hurried to sit beside his mentor. "How are you feeling? You're going to be fine, you know, absolutely fine."

"'Course I am," Halt murmured, his voice little more than a whisper. "So there's no need to bully that Oramine man."

"But Halt, he's a healer!" Will protested. "He could help you."

Halt tried to rise, failed, then gave up. "Don't need a healer poking around me. Just need something to drink."

"Of course!" Will held out the canteen and let drops fall into his mentor's mouth.

"Mhm, Will?" His eyelids fluttered shut. "Lost a lot of blood, I think. You got t' be strong. Right up til the end."

"What are you saying?" Will stared at him in horror.

"No beating up your allies," Halt mumbled. "Not good for moral...and no crying either...not yet. And no mater what happens to me, you survive and you escort Lillian home. That's our mission. No forgetting it."

"Halt? Are trying to say you think you'll...? No, you won't!" Will shook his head, over and over, denying the possibility. He tore a strip off his ranger cloak to use as a fresh bandage. The wound wasn't looking good, the flesh was swollen and crusted with blood. He cleaned it by dribbling water over it and Halt muttered something about it being cold. That was the last thing he said that day; he fell asleep. Will couldn't help the fresh tears that spilled down his face. He wasn't experienced with bad wounds, but he could see that this one was infected. And he knew that was very bad.

He crouched beside his mentor. There was no energy left in him to try and persuade Antil. Behind him, he heard Ruch trying on his behalf.

"Look Antil, please help?" the oldest member of their party pleaded. "You could be the only one who can save the ranger's life."

And Antil's reply- no.

"Please Antil?" Lillian put in.

And Antil's reply again- no.

Hopeless, Will thought. Just hopeless. Then he shook the thought off. That was the sort of thing Antil would say, and he didn't want to have any similarities to that despicable man.

"That ranger is a foreigner anyway," Sirisa said, tossing her head contemptously. "I suppose it doesn't matter if he lives or dies."

Will looked up at her, his usually warm eyes burning. But he would not lose his temper again, Halt wouldn't want that.

"Back in Araluen, I have many friends," he said, speaking low and carefully. "Horace, Alyss, Cassandra, Jenny, Gilan, George, Crowley, Sir Rodney, Baron Arald, and those are only some. But what every single one of them has in common is that they would never give up. They will fight until the death to protect the ones they love."

Sirisa blinked at him, unsure where this was coming from.

"And not only that, they have fought to protect other countries, like the battle of Skandia. How can you say your intreverted country is honourable? How can you say that foreigners are worth nothing? Have you ever put your life on the line to protect someone? Is there anyone in this world you would die for? Because, I, worthless foreigner that I am, have many of those people."

Sirisa dropped her gaze. She didn't respond. There was nothing for her to say, she had no family, or lover, and few friends.

"I also have people like that." It was Antil who had spoken, his usually emotionless face wracked with grief. "Or I did."

Will turned to him in surprise. He remained silent, hoping the healer would open up more. Instead, Ruch decided to continue.

"Your wife and your son, right?" he guessed. Antil nodded, his face closing up again. Ruch smiled at him. "They are well, you know. I've seen them. Your wife is a beautiful woman and your son a fine young man."

"She is beautiful," Antil murmured. "But she is lost to me. I have not seen her since I was accused. Not for a whole year."

And that was why, Will realised, he didn't care if he died. There was an opportunity here that he couldn't let pass, he had to play his cards right. Maybe Antil had it tough, but that was no reason to give in so easily.

"When I get home, I'm going to propose to the woman I love," Will said. A smile crossed his face at the thought of her. His anger had faded away. "As a ranger, I'm often apart from her, but I know I'll always get to see her again. Even now, I know I'll make it back. And if you work with me, have a little faith and a little hope, I promise I'll reunite you with your family."

Antil smiled, and the ghost of the man he might have once been crossed his face. But it faded again.

"I spent a whole year in that prison, you know," he said. "A whole year while they sentenced me."

"It was a long trial," Ruch agreed. "It was controversal."

"What happened, anyway?" Sirisa asked. "I heard about your sentence, but I never found out what it was for." She'd never cared. She was always self absorbed.

Antil would not answer, so Ruch took on the explaining himself.

"Lord Daan's mistress fell ill. You remember, Lady Maeira?"

"I remember her death," Sirisa said. Will and Lillian kept quiet, they were both content to listen to the Oramine.

"Well, Lord Daan got Antil to see to Lady Maeira. It was kept a secret from the general public, because Daan's affairs with the woman was not something he wanted to share- since he was also dating Lady Petutia, Lady Erredella, and Lady Marree at the same time."

"How do you know?" Sirisa intterupted. Ruch shrugged.

"I've always been well aquainted with the nobles, they share things with me, and I was involved in the court case. Anyway, he got Antil to see to her. But things went wrong and Maeira had a bad reaction to the medicine. She died."

"I assume Lord Daan didn't take kindly to this," Will put in.

"No, he overeated in the extreme," Ruch said. "He'd been very fond of the woman. He sentenced Antil to the Wild. But it took a whole year to send him there, because he needed sufficient witnesses, and the transport and everything, all the while keeping the whole affair as secret as possible. When he made his statement of sentence, he said simply that Antil was a traitor."

"And that is why I might as well die here," Antil said bleakly. "It is too late for me to return home."

Will's eyebrows drew together. "That's not a reason," he said. "I don't care what happened, we can sneak out your family and you can live in Araluen. There's always a way to make things work."

Antil shook his head. "I still will not help your friend."

"He's not just my friend," Will said. "He's also my father. That's why I'll fight to get him all the help he deserves. At least give me a reason you won't help him. And 'we're all going to die anyway' isn't good enough." If he had a substantial reason, Will might be able to address that reason and persuade him to help.

Antil sighed. He stared at his hands. "I told myself when Maeira died and I was sentenced for it, I would not heal anyone again."

"Then you are a coward and a fool," Will told him. Ruch was appalled.

"Will, that's not helping," he hissed but the young ranger waved off his protest.

"If you would give up that easily, then you were never a good healer to begin with," Will said. "If a soldier gives up when he breaks an arm, he is the worst soldier. If a cook gives up because one person doesn't like his dish, he is the worst cook. If a healer gives up because one person dies, he is the most pathetic, foolish, cowardly healer I have ever seen. I don't know your wife, but the girls I know back in Araluen would skin me alive if I dared give up so easily!"

Antil stared at him. He glanced down at his hands, glanced up again.

"My wife would kill me," he said, followed by a sigh, "I've cause her such pain."

"If she's anything like Alyss, Pauline or Cassandra, she'll forgive you if you return to her in one piece," Will told him, with a grin in place.

There was silence for a moment, then Antil stood up and strode purposefully over to the injured ranger.

"I'd better get to work then," he said.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

There was a new purpose about Antil now. He pushed up Halt's shirt and grazed his fingers over the swollen skin around the bandage. At first, he was hesitant, then all the years he had served as a healer came back to him. He held the limp wrist to feel the fluttery pulse, checked the temperature of the sweaty forehead, lifted the eyelids and, finally, undid the dressing that covered Halt's wound.

Ruch occupied himself with the fire, a smile on his lips at the newfound hope the healer was showing. The girls backed away, as both of them new better than to disturb Antil now.

Will found himself crouching uselessly. He licked his lips and had to swallow several times. Sure, Antil was glowing with fresh energy, but was that enough? What if he turned around and said: I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do.

"This is infected," Antil said after a long silence. "He didn't get treatment in time."

Will was falling, spiralling down, the words crashing around his head like waves on the rocky coast of Picta. He bit his lip, tightened his fists, forced down the insistant tears.

"You could have given him treatment earlier." He shouldn't have said it. Accusations weren't going to help Halt, he knew that. But Will was tired and miserable, and he really wanted to be home at Redmont now, strumming chords and singing to Alyss by the glowing embers of the fire.

Antil scowled. His eyes were starting to glaze again. He was drifting back into despair.

"I'm sorry," Will forced himself to say. "You're doing a great job. Is there anything else we can do for him?"

For a moment, Will thought the healer was going to go off on his 'we're all going to die anyway' rants. Antil shrugged and stretched his stiff arms.

"There might be some herbs for a poultuce that could help. Or at least a painkiller," he muttered. Will brightened a little.

"Describe them to me and I'll find them," he said.

The list that Antil gave him was so detailed, Will had to ask him to repeat parts a few times before he had it memorised. There were various roots under the richest soil, prickly leaves, long leaves, short and sticky leaves. Each variety of plant had a particular colour, and some had flowers that might not be in bloom- Antil couldn't remember the flowering season for many plants. He spoke of distintive petals and colours, then added that if they weren't there, he no longer needed some other plants as the flowers were a crucial part of his herbal remedy.

Will wanted to head out searching right away, but Ruch insisted that he wait until morning. So they all curled up in their shelters, their bones aching, as a light misting rain began to fall. By now, Will was more trusting of the Oramine. Antil had proven himself as a healer, Ruch had always seemed reliable, and since Will was so tired he couldn't bear the thought of a long watch, he could persuade himself that even Sirisa was trustworthy.

It was still raining come morning, and Will realised with some irritation that he would have to scour the forest for dry firewood. But this annoyance passed as he figured he had to find the herbs anyway and he could complete the two tasks at once.

"I'm hungry," Lillian complained.

"I have snares set up," Will told her. "With luck, they'll have caught something."

Lillian sighed and drew her knees to her chin. "I want to go home," she murmured. "I never want to go on a mission again. I think I will retire from being a courier and marry a nice boy and live in a comfortable house and have children."

Will glanced at her glum face in some surprise. He was about to say something about all her studying and how it would go to waste, then remembered she tended to be sensitive about it. Instead, he let his natural grin show through, searching for some of the comfortable camaraderie that existed between his friends when they were on missions together.

"Any particular boy?" he asked. His fingers slipped into his pocket to finger the engagement ring, thinking of the girl he would like to marry.

"N-no, of course not!" Lillian shook her head quickly, a blush heating up her cheeks. "I don't have a lover."

"Not even a close friend?" Will cocked his head, amused at her embarrassment.

"No! I mean, yes, I have a friend. But he's not...I mean...he's just a childhood friend of mine," She waved her hands, flustered.

Will grinned. Ruch crawled from his shelter just at the right moment and saw the expression.

"You're cheerfull today, ranger Will," he said, moving to help himself to a sip of water.

Will shrugged. He wasn't, really, but he knew if he showed too much negativity it would affect the others. He waited until Sirisa and Antil had woken up and was pleased to notice Antil checked on his patient before joining them around the fire. Then, when they had all drunken a little water, as they had nothing else for breakfast, he told them the plan for the day.

Antil was to stay at the camp and watch for any change in Halt. Ruch would go with Sirisa to check the snares and fetch more water, as he was the only one who could stand her, and he kept her in line with gentle admonishing when she protested that she would not go anywhere near the river after the monster fish had grabbed Will.

Because the two girls couldn't co-operate, Will decided Lillian would have to come with him. Her analytical mind and sharp memory for facts would help him in finding the right herbs, or so he hoped, and they would also take any dry firewood they could find.

He was right to have faith in Lillian. She could remember clearly everything Antil had told them, and once she settled into her rythym, she became very critical: "A Reethe root would grow in moister soil, ranger Will" "in Araluen, a plant with leaves like Antil described would be a kind of vine" "We have these back home in Caraway, they bloom in spring so there's no use in getting them, which means we also don't need the ystrelle, kajkil or frue." The names of the plants were all in Oramine, yet she remembered them with ease. Will was careful not to make any comments, though he was starting to think she might have been more suited as a scribe, or a teacher rather than a courier.

Lillian was lost in her own little world of facts and Will spoke to her only to direct her whirling mind in the direction he wanted. He fingered the ring in his pocket. If it were Alyss beside him, they would be sharing banter and she would whip out an acid comment from her never ending list of witty replies. Lillian did not see the need for such jokes, she stated stiff information and bristled when Will disagreed with her.

They took the herbs back to the camp. Antil didn't bother thanking them, just began pounding the leaves with a rock. Will left him to it. He'd managed to find firewood and remade the fire. Lillian crouched by the flames. She didn't seem open to casual conversation, so he went and sat by Halt, stroking his mentor's sweaty forehead and whispering what he hoped were comforting words to him. But really, he was trying to comfort himself more than Halt.

Antil applied some of his poultuce to Halt's wound. He laid out the rest on various flat rocks to save. The painkiller- he called it fujinjelli- he mixed with a little water to dribbled into Halt's mouth. Perhaps Will was imagining it, but he thought Halt seemed more peaceful in sleep after that.

"Let me see your hand," Antil said. So Will held out his injured hand and watched as Antil treated it. He declined the offer of the painkiller. Halt needed it all, and his hand didn't hurt too badly.

"What I want most in the world right now is a cup of coffee," Will mused.

"I don't really like coffee," Lillian admitted. He shot her a disbelieving look. She'd said much the same on the boat over to Oramin as well.

Ruch and Sirisa returned with, joy of all joys, a deer. They roasted it over the fire and filled themselves with the rich meat. Halt woke breifly and Will told him how Antil had agreed to help.

"I do feel better," Halt agreed but he might have just been saying that for Will's benefit because he was still pale and feverish. He managed a few bites of meat, then his face scrunched up and Will had to hold him steady as he threw up all over the undergrowth.

"That is not good," Antil said flatly, but no statements about inevitable death followed it so Will didn't bother getting annoyed with his matter of fact tone.

"Will," Halt grasped weakly at the younger man's collar. "You hurry and get out of here so you can propose to Alyss."

Will's eyes filled with tears. "I'm not leaving you, if that's what you're trying to say. If you want me safe home, you'll have to get better quick so you're well enough to cross the river."

But even the thought of the river filled him with dread as he recalled the monster fish.

…...

That night, there was a storm.

Will wasn't sure what roused him from sleep. Perhaps it had been the roar of thunder, or the sudden flash of lightning, or the wind buffeting against his shelter, or that fact that he was now lying in a pool of water an inch deep. Any of these things might have woken him.

The pool of water was the most alarming. The others had been going on for some time. Will crawled out of his shelter, ignoring the mud the coated his clothes, and hurried over to Halt's shelter. He regretted not building walls now- the older ranger was shaking violently and he was soaked through and muddy, just like Will.

A torential downpour obscured his vision. It was actually hard to breath through the thick mass of water pouring through the trees. Will became aware that the water on the ground was rising. Never had he been in such heavy rain.

"Will." Ruch had his arms over his head in an attempt to ward off the rain. He'd been on watch. "I was just about to wake you. It's a typical Oramin storm. We have to get to higher ground."

"Higher ground?" Will repeated. His boots were sinking into mud and he pulled them free with a squelching sound.

"The river will flood," Ruch explained. They were yelling over the rain. "This whole place will turn into a swamp."

Will bit his lip. He didn't want to move Halt, but he equally didn't think it a good idea to leave the ranger to drown. Obviously. "Wake the others," he told Ruch and bent down to scoop up his mentor. Halt's eyelids fluttered and he gargled something incoherent.

Lightning flashed again and for a split second, Halt was illuminated with white light that made him look even sicker than he was. Will held his mentor close and hoped his body warmth would be enough to keep the ranger alive despite his wet clothes.

Ruch appeared again with Sirisa and Lillian. All three of them were shivering and soaked to the bone. Will stumbled a few paces, squinting against the enslaught of rain. He wasn't sure which way was uphill, and when he tried to take a step, he tripped and crashed to the ground. Halt yelled out in pain; an almost inhuman cry, and Will cursed.

Blood mingled with water. Somehow, when Will lifted Halt again, his hands ended up stained red.

"Dammit," Will whispered. Halt's wound must have reopened.

"This way!" Ruch yelled. Will followed behind him. He was weak from days in the wild and it was much harder than it should have been to carry Halt.

Especially uphill. There was a steep slope that had turned into a mudslide more than anything else, and Will's feet were sucked out beneath him. He ended up lying on top of his mentor, trying to push them both up the hill, while mud oozed over them and the rain pounded down.

He was halfway up the slope, when he began to slip down. He desperately reached around and grabbed the trunk of a tree, holding on as a sudden torrent of water pushed the mud down. Ruch was right, the land was turning into a swamp.

But now he was holding on to Halt with only one hand. And to his horror, his grip was slipping.

The mud didn't help, it was making Wills hold around Halt's waist slippery, and the unconscious ranger was being pushed down the slope by the mud. Somewhere around him, one of the girls screamed.

Will closed his eyes, desperate. Halt slipped from his hold, but he managed to grab the ranger's arm. A stab of pain shot up Will's arm- it was the hand injured by the monster fish. The young ranger gritted his teeth. Raindrops stung his eyes, blinded him. The wind buffeted the trees; he was almost dislodged from his position. There was no time to worry about the others.

Then he lost his grip on Halt's arm.

His mentor was snatched away by the storm.

**Well, that wasn't planned. Eh heh heh...yeah...**

**Review please! They go towards the Halt Rescue Foundation, to save neglected and abused Halts from fanfiction authors. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**I have so many story ideas that will be so fun to write! I simply don't have time to write them all and, being me, the majority are chapter fics. But no, I'm not going to start any of them, until I've finished the three in progress fics I have at the moment! *Raises determined fist* **

**In other news, I have a two week holiday! I have to study and work, but I'm still going to try write one chapter of something a day. *Is pumped up* Even if it means I must stay up late at night, or get up early in the morning, I will defeat the demons of procrastination, close my eyes to the temptation of books and manga, ignore the anime on my computer, forget that sims 2 is only one click away, and write! Huff, huff, huff... Then exams, but then is the christmas holidays when I'll really be able to update. **

Will was not sure how long the storm raged on. He clung to his tree, the mud coarsing around him. It got in his clothes, his mouth and eyes, and he spluttered. Breathing was surprisingly difficult through the thick rain and the mud. It felt like he was drowning every bit as much as it had when the monster fish dragged him under.

But no storm lasts forever, and when the watery light of dawn peeked through the canopy, the clouds had retreated. In a heartbeat, the rain seemed to have been hours ago; the forest back to dry humidity without a breath of wind.

Will dragged himself out of the mud. His front was caked in brown, but his back and head had been exposed to the rain and so were cleaner. Water still dripped down his face, and he realised with a shock that he had been crying.

Halt.

He'd forgotten for a second. And now, he sloshed a few paces in the mud and vomited. He was sick to his stomache. Halt. Gone.

It couldn't be real.

It wasn't real! It wasn't! Halt wasn't dea-...gone, until Will found his body. Halt was strong, stronger than anyone Will knew, and he couldn't be killed by just a little mud and a cut.

Will glanced around frantically. He saw a shape in the mud move and had a flash of hope, until he realised it was just Ruch. Then he felt guilty for being disappointed.

"Will," Ruch said, joining the young ranger. "I managed to grab a tree trunk; I don't know where the others are."

Will closed his eyes. He didn't care about the others. He just didn't. It was horribly selfish of him, he knew that, but it didn't change his feelings.

The forest had changed completely. The mudslide oozed with knee deep muck, and below the slope, a swamp had formed. A rustling came from above them, and Will spotted Sirisa, who had made it to the top before the wind and rain became unbearable. She waved at the other two to join her, but Will had no intention of moving until he found his former mentor.

"Where's Halt?" Ruch asked quietly. The cringe on his face showed that he had already written the older ranger off as deceased, and he rested a comforting hand on Will's shoulder.

"Around here somewhere," Will snapped. He slipped down the mudslide, frantically searching.

"Will," Ruch said gently. "Will, he's badly injured and-"

"I know!" Will screamed. There was a stunned silence, as if the whole forest had been shocked by the outburst. "I'll find him; he'll be fine; he always is!" He dropped to his knees and began digging in the muck, just in case Halt had been buried by the ooze.

Another movement in the mud, another flash of hope, but this was only Lillian. Her hair could barely qualify as blonde under the grime, and there was a pallor to her cheeks. Wearily, she staggered her way up the hill.

Lillian was climbing the hill, Will realised, so she must have slid down. She'd fallen and she'd survived. Halt was much stronger than Lillian, there was no way he would die when she lived.

His mind told him: Lillian didn't have an infected torso wound.

"Did Ranger Halt finally...?" Lillian trailed off as she noticed the growing rage on Will's face.

"Did he finally what?" Will repeated, his voice rising in both pitch and volume. "Did he finally die? Was that what you were about to say? Were you all _waiting _for him to die? You-you-" he couldn't manage any more. He was crying too hard.

Halt, who had tested him in the baron's office. Halt, who had taught him the ways of a ranger. Halt, who was grim and unemotional, but who hugged Will when he was scared, and smiled when Will needed encouragement. Halt, who would have that glint in his eyes when he said, "I'm proud of you."

Will rocked forward. He buried his hands in the mud; let his nose touch the surface. His tears plopped into the mud as he curled up, in the middle of the Oramine forest, feeling more anguished and more alone than ever. His so-called companions stood by uselessly and watched.

This wasn't helping Halt. All this crying was doing nothing to help. Would Halt stand by and sob if he was in Will's position? No, he would find a body first. Just in case.

Will leapt to his feet and hurried down the slope, ignoring Lillian's exclamation of his name. He threw himself into the swamp and ran as best he could when waist deep in water, praying that around the next bend, Halt would appear.

Then he spotted Antil. The healer had found a spot where two interlocking trees had provided some shelter from the storm. He was kneeling on a rock that jutted out from the swamp water, crouched over something.

Will was muttering, "please, please, please," under his breath. As he got nearer, he realised Antil was crouched over Halt, pushing down on the ranger's chest to try and get him to breath. Will had to fight back the urge to shrink into the ground in despair as he realised Antil was shaking his head. And then Antil stopped his attempts.

"Is he...?" Will hurried over. Antil looked over at him, his face completely blank, his eyes vacant and still shaking his head.

Halt's face was white, deathly white, and his lips had a blue tinge to them. His salt and pepper hair was streaked with mud that actually made him look younger, if it weren't for the deep lines on his features that had been creased in pain over the last few days. Like all of them he was caked in mud, but fresh blood from his wound added another colour to his grimy clothes. With his eyes closed, his body limp and still, Halt appeared unaturally peaceful amongst the devastated forest. Far too peaceful.

But he was still breathing. He was still alive.

…...

Antil continued to shake his head as the two of them carried Halt up the slope.

"I don't believe it," he said. "I thought he was dead for sure when he drifted beside me."

Will couldn't control the tremors that were racking his body- in part because his wet clothing was sticking to his skin and it was freezing, but mostly because his heart was still beating eratically.

"I thought he was gone," Will whispered. "I thought that was why you were shaking your head."

"No, not at all," Antil dismissed the notion. "I was simply amazed at this man's strength. You two rangers have certainly taught me something. I won't be giving up anymore."

Will let out a shaky breath. "Well, you didn't have to scare me like that."

The other three were equally as amazed that Halt had survived. They all clambered up the muddy slope, slipping and sliding, but having a lot more success without the wind and rain. At the top, Will instructed everyone to strip down to their underwear. Standing around in wet clothes was deadly, he told them.

Sirisa and Lillian hid behind a tree- they weren't going to hang out half-naked with a bunch of men. Will and the others could hear their bickering from behind the tree, and then they all had to avert their eyes as Sirisa stormed over to find another tree.

They were back to square one. No shelter, no food, and now they had no clothes.

Ruch and Will set about lighting a fire, while Antil checked on Halt. It was difficult to find dry firewood, but a tangled shrub had been dense enough to shelter the innermost branches and before too long, the girls joined them in huddling around the fire.

"How is he?" Will gestured to Halt. Antil shrugged.

"I wouldn't say he is stable. Nor can I say the swelling or infection has gone down, and he has a high fever. He's at risk of illness if he gets too cold." He saw Will's downcast face and added, "but he's surprisingly good considering all he's been through. I'm starting to think we might just make it out of this cursed forest."

This cheered everyone up, particularly because it had been the pessimist of the group to say it.

"So," Will said at length. "Exactly what happened with that painting?"

"It's a sacred artifact," Ruch said, a bitter smile playing at his lips. "You've heard of the Arasi?"

"Yes," Will confirmed. "The neighbouring country and traditional enemies of Oramin."

"You've done your homework, foreigner," Sirisa said, and she managed to make it sound like an insult.

"When the fifth lord was ruling Oramin, that painting was made. It was a huge hit at the time- this was hundreds of years ago," Ruch explained. "It was at the time of the great war. The painting was a bright spot in the war; a splash of hope if you like."

Sirisa continued, "the Arasi resented the painting because they hated for their enemies to have any form of happiness. So they stole it! They stole our sacred painting!"

"It was many years later before the Oramine managed to steal the painting back," Ruch said. "Since then, it has been upheld as an Oramine treasure as well as a war memorial. It has been regarded for hundreds of years, ever since the painting was stolen, as a capital crime to touch it."

"That's ridiculous!" Will couldn't refrain from his outburst. "It's just a painting. We're in this mess because of a painting!"

"I wouldn't expect a foreigner to understand!" Sirisa snapped. "Only a true born Oramine can appreciate the value of art!"

"Sirisa, hush," Ruch quieted her. "Different countries have different customs."

"Um," Lillian brought the attention to her. "I studied Oramine customs before I came here, but I'd never heard of the painting. Was this story documented in any way?"

Sirisa snorted. Ruch cast her a patient, but vaguely weary look. "No, Lillian. It is a story told down the generations. It was never recorded, or written down."

Lillian nodded thoughtfully. Will couldn't see why it mattered.

"I think our clothes are dry enough now," he said. They dressed; the mud caked material stiff and itchy but dry. Ruch and Antil helped Will to dress Halt.

"I'll take first watch," Will said, despite his tiredness. He felt he hadn't been doing much to keep the spirits up lately. The others were all too happy to lie down by the fire and close their eyes.

They slept under the stars that night. At some stage, Halt started to groan and toss in sleep. Will stroked his forehead and tore off another strip from his rapidly diminishing cloak to use as a fresh (though not clean) bandage.

"Will?" Lillian asked drowsily.

"What is it?" Will murmured back to her.

"What did you think of the Five Lords Painting story?" It took him a moment to remember the name of the painting was 'Five Lords'.

"It sounds like Oramin and Arasi have been enemies for a while," Will answered.

"Yes, but I mean...it was passed down the generations...stories like that usually change over time," Lillian said.

Will suppressed a yawn. He glanced up at the sliver of a moon through the canopy. It was nearly the end of his watch. "Does it matter?"

"I suppose not."

…...

In the morning, they doused the fire and dragged themselves further uphill. If another storm hit them, they wanted to be well away from the water.

Sometime around noon, when all their limbs were trembling with weakness that stemmed from little food and water and exertion, and Will's arms were aching from carrying Halt, they found a good spot to camp.

But spirits were low, and they didn't particularly want to begin making shelters yet again. Who knows what could happen this time to ruin everything? Perhaps a bear would come and knock them down, or the tribespeople would return, or beavers would chew them. This last one made Will chuckle, which meant the others stared at him like he'd finally lost his marbles.

Why did people say that anyway? Lost his marbles...Will had never had any marbles to begin with. He'd never played with them as a child, and life as a ranger wasn't exactly marble-enticing. This made him laugh again.

"Will?" Lillian sounded concerned.

"Oh, I was just thinking about how I don't own any marbles," Will explained to her, quite comfortably.

"I think he's dehydrated," Antil put in. "We all need rest and water."

So they sat on the ground for an hour, staring at the sun which seemed inordinately hot whe compared to the rainy weather they'd been previously getting. Ruch explained that Oramin weather could change as fast as you could blink.

"Are we going to make shelters?" Lillian asked.

"Oh, I cannot be bothered," Sirisa groaned. "Let's just shelter under these trees."

"Will?" Lillian put the question to him.

Will shrugged. "It's hot enough now."

"But we'll pay for it if it rains later," Ruch argued. "You'll regret it if Halt gets rained on."

So once again, they set to making sheltor (without Sirisa's help). This time, they went for a roofing area connected by trees, and without any sides. Will also set up his snares again, and Ruch helped him. Antil and Lillian took a quick trip down to the swamp to fill up their water bottles- the Oramine had a way of draining out the muck through a cloth and letting the good water seep through into the water skins. Back at the camp, they lit a fire and boiled the water to make sure it was safe to drink.

All of this took just under two days. Will could hardly believe it had been a week since they had first been thrown into the wild, and they still had not even begun to find their way home.

It would be nice, he reflected, if they could get some good luck, for once.

**Review? I just want to know people are still reading :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**From now on, Saturday is Into the Wild update day, and Monday is Bitten by Fate update day. (In my time zone, that is). Right, I've written it on my calender and everything. **

**Chapter 12**

It became habit to sit around the campfire in the evening, and it was the one time of the day they could all work together. Some nights, hungers knawed at their bellies; sometimes their throats were parched and dry, but there were fortunatedays as well, when they roasted plump birds over the fireplace and once, a snake.

They were always weary and stressed. Will sat cross legged next to his mentor, stroking Halt's sweaty hair from his forehead. Occassionally, Halt would wake, though he was not often lucid. Antil checked over the wound, then rested against a tree trunk with a small shake of his head.

This was when Lillian questioned Ruch about Oramine customs. She took great interest in their history, most of which she claimed was not in any of the books she had studied. Ruch smiled at her and started telling a legend, usually one about the rivalry between Oramin and Aras.

The others listened in quietly. Sirisa stared out into the forest, the words lapping around her and a dark expression on her face. Antil sighed at parts, reminiscing on the times he'd been a welcome healer in Oramin. Even when it rained and the fire spluttered, they gathered under the shelter to hear the tales.

One legend that stuck in Will's mind was _Kohalli the Bloodthirsty, _about an Arasi warrior who led a band of fighters through the jungle into Oramin, where they wiped out half the population. Kohalli had marched right through the jungle, a feat no man had done before and the very same jungle Will was in. He'd waded through the river. The air of malice around him was so great that the river monsters dared not attack him, though he'd lost three of his men before he reached Oramin. And when he did reach his target, Kohalli emerged from the water, droplets spraying from him, his sword whirring above his head.

The Oramine had laughed when Will pointed out that there might yet be a way over the river. We're not mighty killers, they scoffed, that only applies to Kohalli. Besides, they had added, the river was far too deep to wade across- Kohalli must have been seven metres tall, at least.

Even so, Will didn't forget _Kohalli the Bloodthirsty._ As Lillian had said when talking about the painting, legends could be warped over time. Perhaps there had been another way that Kohalli took to reach Oramin. A way that Will might be able to find.

If there was, it hadn't come to him yet. What would Halt do? He asked himself over the long hours. What would Halt do? It kept him up at night, relaying over and over in his head. He didn't know. Five years he had trained under Halt, another two years of being a ranger in his own right, and he still couldn't come up with the answers. He would never be as wise and strong and capable as Halt.

Will wished his former mentor would just wake up, recover, and tell him what to do. More than that, he wished Halt would work his magic and solve everything.

He fingered the ring in his pocket, rotating it. Alyss, his failed proposals; it all seemed a long way away, as if it had happened in another life. Indeed, he felt as if he had become aged into an old man.

"His fever is going down," Antil announced one morning. "And so is the swelling around the wound."

Will grinned. Here was a speck of light in their situation. He felt Halt's hands and forehead, satisfied that they were less clammy and sweaty than they had been previously. It had become Lillian's daily job to collect medicinal herbs (because she couldn't do much else) and they were working well.

Antil had already stitched up the gash, and even Will could see the lips of the wound were starting to heal. There was less pus, though the skin was still a little swollen and yellow-tinged.

"The infection is receding," Antil added. "Try to make him eat these." He handed over some grounded leaves. They looked much the same as all the other leaves he'd been using, to Will.

"What are they?"

"S'ubin. Painkillers. They're strong and I thought him too weak for them earlier." Antil explained.

Will pried Halt's lips apart to sprikle them in. He tipped a little water into the ranger's mouth to force him to swallow. Halt's raggid breathing seemed to ease and appeared to be more peaceful.

"He's going to be alright then?" Will asked.

Antil shrugged. He was not one to give out false hope, and nowdays he rarely held any kind of hope at all. "He's not in the clear yet," he said, then when he saw Will's crestfallen face he added, "but it's looking good."

Will helped change the bandages. He was making a mental to-do list for the day. Antil would, as usual, stay and watch Halt for any change, while tending the fire. Lillian was to assist Antil, collect herbs at his request and help him fix any leaks in the shelter. Sirisa was to forage for berries (she knew which were edible and which were poisonous), nuts and fruit. Ruch would help check the snares and sift water from the swamp. As for Will, he helped where needed and tried to find a way back to Oramin.

This morning, he suddenly didn't feel like doing the old routine. It had kept them alive, yes, but they were not progessing, or if they were, they were doing it slowly.

"Weapons," he said, disrupting the general bustle around the camp as they all woke up. "We need weapons."

Sirisa snorted. "Are you planning to go fighting something? I don't think we're in any condition to start a war."

Ruch shushed her, his bright eyes peering at the young man. "Are you thinking about the tribespeople?" he queried.

"Yes. I'd like a bow in my hands if they show up again. Or at least a pointy stick," Will saw that the Oramine were nodding, even Sirisa. Lillian just looked nervous at the thought of weapons. He had to force himself not to be short tempered with her- couriers carried fine bladed daggers, they were no strangers to weapons, though he had to wonder if anyone had ever given Lillian a dangerous mission.

"It's not just the tribespeople," Will continued. "There are leopards in these parts, aren't there? And other dangerous animals."

"That's true," Ruch nodded. "Though in general, one must watch out for the venom of spiders and snakes more than any big cat. However, I agree. I used to be quite handy with a spear in my younger days and I'm sure we could fashion something of the sort with all these trees around."

"Antil? Sirisa? Lillian?" Will looked at each of them in turn, asking their opinion.

"I've never been much of a fighter," Antil admitted. "Though I suppose this is as good a time as any to learn." He gave a weak smile.

Sirisa grinned, and though it had an edge of malice to it, it did make her prettier. She looked just like the woman who had first greeted them with an act of kindness and friendliness, when the skandians had dropped them off on the Oramin shores. Will smiled ruefully- what he would do for a ship full of Skandians at his disposal, and a great big wolfship too!

"I suppose I could learn to use a spear," Sirisa said. "Although," her dark eyes gleamed, "I can't promise not to use it on foreigners."

It was strange that now she actually threatened them, there seemed less insult when she said 'foreigners'. He wondered if Sirisa had a sense of humour, and if she was brushing the dust off it now.

Lillian stared at her hands. She didn't seem as if she was about to support the idea. Perhaps she felt it would encourage violence, or maybe she took Sirisa's threat more seriously than Will did. They didn't wait for her to make up her mind.

"Alright, let's get started," Will said. "Ruch, do you know what wood is best for a spear?" He would have liked to make a bow, but he didn't have a suitable string with him, and a bow without a string is fairly useless.

"Most Oramine spears are made out of what we call Gisrien trees," Ruch answered. "The wood is very hard and is not easily broken. There will be some around here, they are common."

"Antil, stay here with Halt," Will ordered. "Lillian, fetch him the herbs he needs, and Sirisa, I want you to do your foraging. Ruch and I will quickly check the snares and then get some branches from these Gis-what's-it trees. When you hear my whistle, meet back here."

He was impatient to get started, but he knew better than to throw away the tasks that had to be done. There was nothing in the snares, which made his stomach growl in misery. Ruch had to stop and rest, and Will waited impatiently for the older man to resume work. They quickly found a Gisrien tree after that.

Will twisted and pushed and pulled but he could not snap a branch off. Ruch helped all he could, until his old, weary bones grew tired and he napped against the base of the trunk. Will sank down beside him, his head in his hands. So much for that idea.

They returned to the camp in low spirits. The brief flare of making weapons had cheered them up, if only because they were achieving something; now they all had their hearts in their boots. Lillian finished her task for the day and was curled up, sleeping. Will couldn't help feeling put out that she allowed herself to have an easy time of it; he woke her up and forced her to come with him down to the swamp to drain more fresh water through their jackets, even when she complained about the smell and how disgusting it was.

Sirisa bought back macadamias and mangoes for lunch, and having a full belly brought smiles to their faces again. Will sent Lillian and Ruch with her to bring back more food, while he himself was energised enough to continue his daily explorations. One day soon, he told himself, he'd stumble upon their way home.

He set out north east, walking until his legs ached. The sun was shrouded by trees. The earth was moist, muddy from where the swamp had been- it was starting to drain away. Will was about to concede that there was nothing here of any advantage until he spotted a rock. Just a rock, a plain grey rock.

Away from the river he hadn't seen many rocks. This prompted him to keep going, simply because it was something different in the scenery, and different things was what he was looking for. Sure enough, in a few more steps, he spotted another rock under a layer of dirt.

The further he went, the more there were, until most of the ground was mud splashed rock. Will spotted a spot of black in the grey. He dropped down to one knee, and brushed mud off a black rock. The edges were sharp and he cut his finger, a spot of blood dribbling onto the rock. He didn't curse; he was smiling.

"Obsidian," he said to himself. He tucked it away in his pocket and began scouring the ground for more. Piece by piece, he collected shards of the sharp rock. He used his cloak to wrap it in, bundling it together.

Rain started to fall. His damp curls clung to his neck; rivulets of water tickled down his face. Evening was growing closer and he knew it would be wise to head back to camp before the sun went down, but he kept telling himself: just a bit longer.

He had a substantial horde of the rock before red light filtered through the trees and he knew he couldn't tell himself he had time any longer. Will started back to the camp, pleased with his efforts. Each shard was the size of his palm, except for two: one of those was skinnier and stretched from his wrist to his fingertips; the other was the jackpot, a bar of obsidian thirty centimetres long.

Will swung his cloak over his shoulder like a sack, and hurried back to camp. It was dark before he got there. He heard noises; owls hooting, the howls and hisses of predators. Sometimes, he would glimpse white or yellow, like eyes glowing in the night, and panic. At other times, he feared he was lost; that he would never find his way back to the camp.

He'd travelled in a fairly straight line during the day. It was difficult to do the same in the dark. The trees blocked out most of the moonlight; pitch black took on a whole different meaning for him.

His boot sank into swamplands. Will made his way along the edge of the swamp. He'd walked for hours, at least, he thought that was the case, it was difficult to keep track of time in the dark where the trees hid the moon from him.

He paused to create a mental picture of the forest in the day. Their campsite was up a steep incline, he recalled, and the swamp was at the base of it. So he kept one foot in the mucky swamp, one foot on harder soil, until he felt his right side was higher than his left. Then Will turned to the right and made his way up what seemed to be a steep enough hill.

Will had never been so relieved to see the glow of a campfire between the trees, although it did strike him how obvious it was. Still, he hurried towards it, feeling nimbler with every step, until he was in the campsite and could see the shadowy outline of his hand in the firelight.

He heard the scuff of a footstep, and registered that someone would be on watch. "It's me, it's Will," he whispered quickly, turning around to see Antil emerging from the trees.

"Will?" the healer asked. "We thought you'd been eaten by a leopard, or something."

"I'm alright," Will said. "I found a whole lot of obsidian." He spread out his cloak, picking up a shard and watching the firelight danced over the black surface.

"I assume the plan to make weapons is still in progress then," Antil stated.

"Tommorrow," Will agreed. "Now, did you save me any dinner?" He saw from the guilty look that they hadn't. "Nevermind. How's Halt?"

"He woke up earlier and seemed to be in his right mind. He asked after you," Antil said. "We told him you were searching for a way home. He tried to stay awake, but he drifted off again quickly."

Will was disappointed that he hadn't been there. There wasn't anything to gain by dwelling over it, so he found a spot in the shelter to sleep in until his watch.

…...

When the others woke up, they noticed the obsidian right away. Ruch grinned as he turned a piece over in his hands. Lillian admired the shiny surface, though she failed to understand the importance.

Will took charge over the activities again. He sent them off to do their chores. Halt woke, and the younger ranger told him about the obsidian and how they could make weapons from it. His former mentor was too weak to offer much advice or encouragement, but there was a light of approval in his eyes.

When they had filled the water bottles, reset the snares and gathered nuts, seeds and fruit, Will whistled them all back into camp. He left Antil with Halt, and marched the others to the Gisrien tree, the thirty centimetre piece of obsidian in his hand.

"We'll saw off a branch," he said. He and Ruch climbed the tree and positioned the obsidian between them. They sawed at the branch, with Will pushing while Ruch pulled and vice versa, until it fell to the ground.

Then they chopped off the twigs and smaller branches connected to it; measured and chopped the branch into the right lengths for spear handles, then took the wood back to camp. They handed smaller pieces of obsidian to everyone, and together all five of them began whittling at the wood to make smooth handles.

It was hard work. The rain returned to them, and they retreated to the shelter. They cut themselves on the sharp edge time and time again. After a particularly deep cut, Lillian clutched her bleeding hand and sat watching them.

"What are you doing, jujoan?" Sirisa asked, jujoan being the Oramine word for weakling that she had taken to calling the courier.

"I don't want to do this anymore," Lillian muttered. "I don't care about the stupid weapons anyway."

Sirisa scoffed. "What, a little cut and a foreigner girl gives up?" she held up her own bleeding palms. "That's the attitude of a jujoan!"

"Keep at it, Lillian," Will encouraged. "You'll feel safer when we have spears."

"I don't want to," Lillian sulked. "My hands hurt."

"There's not much point, I suppose," Antil muttered. "I doubt a spear hand made by amatuers will do much good against predators, or tribespeople."

"That depends on the quality of the spearman using it," Ruch retorted sharply.

"We could tire ourselves out doing this for hours on end," Antil continued. "We still might not manage to fasten the points on, or carve the obsidian to the right shape. We may come out of this with nothing save bloody hands."

Sirisa frowned as a thought occurred to her. "I see your point," she admitted. "With cut hands, we'll be no use weilding a spear." She had paused in her work.

Ruch frowned at her. "You sound like a jujoan," he said quietly, throwing her own words back at her.

Sirisa leapt up, dropping the branch and the obsidian to the ground with a clatter. "I am no jujoan!" she screamed. Above them, a flock of birds were startled from there perch. "You take that back!"

"Why should he, when that's what you call me all the time?" Lillian dared to ask; she had been quite offended at being called a weakling all day.

"Because you are!" Sirisa snapped. "I am not!"

"Then sit down and keep working," Ruch said.

"Is it weak to think about consequences?" Antil asked. "Will we really be any good against a threat with injured hands?"

"You are a jujoan too," Ruch growled, losing his temper. "Will went through all that trouble to find obsidian for us and-"

"Will did this, Will did that," Sirisa waved her hands in the air. "When did a foreigner become our leader? Why should we listen to him? Why should we trust him? I'm not doing what he says anymore!" She, Lillian and Antil stopped carving, glaring at each other, and at Ruch too. They refused to work any more.

They were all tired, fearful and in pain from their bleeding hands, and it made them lash out. Will was no exception; he stood and glowered at them all, wishing it was Malcolm instead of Antil, Horace instead of Ruch, Cassandra instead of Sirisa and Alyss instead of Lillian.

"The four you can't work together for five minutes, can you?!" Will thundered over them. Their bickering died down and they all turned to him, ashamed. "Forget it. If you're going to act like children, you can find your own way home. I'm sick of it!"

He stormed over to where Halt lay, and crouched down beside him. He was sure if Halt was healthy, the ranger would give them all a hiding for their quarrels (including Will). As it was, Halt lay still and pale. Lillian and Antil tried to approach him. Will shot them a furious look and they changed course to the campfire. Sirisa leaned against a tree trunk, while Ruch held the half finished weapon in his hands, casting a mournful gaze around the rest of them.

"It's useless," Will whispered to Halt. "I can't get them to work together. How am I supposed to achieve anything, when they're not even willing to try and get along?"

Halt stirred at the sound of his voice, but did not wake. This saddened Will; he would have liked someone to confide in. And some help. He was tired of having to be leader, the one to come up with every idea; in no small part because he wasn't sure he was capable of being the person they needed.

**Please forgive my lack of knowledge, medical, about rocks, and otherwise. I'm just making things up. **


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"No! Will!" These two words were torn from the lips of an ill ranger. Husky, breathless and quiet as they were, it was still enough to shatter the blanket of silence over the campsite.

Will was on watch and he did something any soldier would be reprimanded for. He deserted his post. His boots made no noise as he treaded past the sleeping Oramine, past the curled up form of Lillian, to kneel beside his mentor.

Halt was sweating and trembling. His cracked lips were open as he panted and mumbled disjointed words. Will heard his own name mentioned there a few times.

"Halt?" he whispered, careful not to wake the others. His fingertips fluttered over his mentor's forehead, cheeks and chin. Hot. He was burning up. Antil had said his fever was breaking!

"Blasted Skandians," Halt muttered. Helpless, Will gripped the sweaty hand in both of his. He could see distress in the older ranger's furrowed brow. "Find you. I...find...Will."

"Find me?" Will repeated. "I'm right here, Halt. I'm right here." He released the hand and nudged his mentor instead. "Wake up," he pleaded. He hated to see this weakness in the one who had been a figure of rock solid dependable strength throughout Will's life.

"Promise," Halt mumbled.

Will shook him harder. If his mentor had been well, no doubt he would have woken up right away. He was lost deep in his feverish dreams and muddled memories. After a minute of trying, Halt's dark eyes flickered open, though they were glazed.

"Will?" He asked, squinting at the shape hovering over him.

"I'm right here," Will said again. "Are you awake now?"

Halt groaned softly. "How long has it been?" he asked. "I feel like I've lived my," he paused, grimancing as a wave of pain washed over him, then gathered his wits and finished his sentence, "whole life in this godforsaken jungle."

"I feel the same," Will agreed. "It hasn't even been three weeks." He forced a bright smile. "Don't worry, we'll be out of here soon."

"What's happened to your cloak?" Halt asked drowsily, already beginning to drift back into sleep. Will glanced down at his ranger cloak. The hem was ragged and it didn't quite reach his knees.

"I've been tearing strips off for bandages," he explained. He thought he saw disapproval in Halt's frown. "I can get a new one back in Araluen," he said in defence.

"That won't help you here," Halt muttered, grimancing again from the pain.

"Antil has painkillers," Will said, changing the subject. He glanced at the neat stacks of ground herbs, each one on a scrap of cloth torn from the bottom of the healer's pants. "I'm not sure which they are," he admitted.

He crawled over to Antil. The healer was fast asleep and snoring softly. Will shook him, despite feeling a tiny speck of guilt at waking him. Sleep didn't come easy in the jungle.

Antil's whole body jerked as he snapped awake. He relaxed when he saw it was only the young ranger.

"Halt needs painkillers," Will told him.

Antil moaned and stretched, dragging himself to the piles of herbs with far less enthusiasm than Will would have liked. He pinched a sprinkle of ground leaves and held it above Halt's mouth. The ranger hesitated, than accepted the medicine.

"You can go back to sleep," Will said to Antil, and the healer complied, this time with much more enthusiasm.

Halt was soon asleep as well, a much more peaceful sleep with the aid of the painkillers. Will spread the tattered remains of his cloak over his mentor. He hoped to burn out the fever before dawn.

"Back to your watch, soldier," Will muttered to himself. He was too self disciplined to sprawl out under the shelter as he wanted to, so he made his way back to the best spot for keeping watch. It was a frigid night, not the right weather for being without his cloak, and he wrapped his arms around himself. Their meagre diet ensured he'd lost plenty of weight; his ribs stuck out and there was no fat on his skinny frame to protect him from the cold. At least it wasn't raining anymore.

When his watch was over, he made his way back to the shelter. The coals of the fire glowed and he could see the others trying to keep warm. Lillian was curled in a tight ball and Ruch was shivering under his coat. Sirisa had crept closer to Antil, the two of them sharing body warmth.

Will woke Ruch for his watch. The older man didn't complain, though he did mention with a rueful smile that the jungle wasn't any place for old bones.

"I'm sorry for earlier," he said and Will could see he was sincere. "You're right, we should at least be able to work together."

Will sighed. "Oh don't apologise," he said. "I know none of you intend to be diffcult." He offered a weary smile. If his real friends had been around, they would have known that smile wasn't a patch on his usual cheeky grins. They weren't, Ruch didn't know better, so he smiled back and went off to his watch.

Will stretched out beside Halt. He wormed closer because he still wanted to burn out the fever and his body warmth would help with that. He also wanted to share the woollen ranger cloaks and the warmth they provided.

He slept. It was the only discovered way to escape from the jungle.

….

Will was woken by a scraping sound. At first, he thought he was dozing with Horace nearby sharpening his sword. Then he realised the scraping was to clumsy for that. It was uneven, and it would clink now and again. As he became less disoriented, he realised it couldn't have been Horace anyway. The oakleaf knight wasn't in Oramin jungle.

He raised himself onto his elbow. The dawn light was filtering through the canopy. It was not yet bright enough for perfect vision, so one of the others had lit the campfire. Red sparks blazed before Will's eyes.

"Good morning."

Will glanced around, startled to see Halt watching him with a hint of amusement. The young ranger beamed.

"Good morning!" He felt his mentor's forehead. Still warm; nothing like the raging fever in the night. Even better, Halt was propped up on one elbow.

"He's not to sit up," Antil said. Will glanced around at the healer, and saw the cause of the scraping noises.

Antil had a block of obsidian in each hand and was grazing them together. He had his jacket bundled around his hands to protect them, and a look of resignition on his face. Ruch was doing the same with grim determination. Lillian was holding a branch steady while Sirisa ran the sharp edge of obsidian up it. Her hands were protected by her jacket too.

Will was astonished. He looked to them, to Halt, back at the Oramine.

"Antil and I are making the spearheads," Ruch explained. "The girls are making the handles. We're all sorry for our behaviour and we're going to try and work as a team now. Right everyone?"

Antil sniffed; the cloth wasn't infallible and blood trickled down his wrist. Lillian nodded and smiled, though she had the easy job.

Sirisa huffed, "I still don't like working with the foreigners," she said. She didn't stop working.

Will didn't know what to say. Halt nudged him and whispered, "you're the leader here. Let them know they're doing well."

So Will stood up and grinned at them. This time, it was a real grin, one with true optimisim and hope. "Keep up the excellent work!" he said. "When we've got these weapons finished, there won't be anything in the forest that can harm us!"

"Hear, hear," Ruch cheered. The others doubled their efforts.

Will retrieved his ranger cloak and swung it over his shoulders. "Since I'm the leader here," he said, addressing Halt. "That means you have to do as I say."

"Don't push it," Halt growled.

Will ignored him. "And I say you have to lie down and rest. You heard Antil. You're not to sit up."

"I am not sitting up," Halt protested with great dignity. "I am merely propped up on my elbow. That is not the same thing as sitting up."

"Just lie down Halt," Will persisted. He pushed at his mentor's shoulders, surprised and a little disappointed when Halt didn't, couldn't_, _offer much resistance.

Halt glowered at him, but he didn't try to get up. Satisfied, Will approached the others. They were all absorbed in their work.

He sorted through the obsidian for a good piece. Since they all seemed to have a system going, he asked, "what would you like me doing?"

"Make youself useful and check the snares," Sirisa said. Her mouth twitched in a grin and he didn't take her sharp tone to heart.

"I'll see if I can cook you all a tasty lunch then," he said. "Never let it be said Will Treaty doesn't look after his workers."

"I'll take the lamb shanks," Lillian said, her eyes misting over. "Or stuffed potatoes with lots of butter. And a loaf of fresh bread straight from the oven as my starter."

"I'll do my best," Will gave her a couteous bow, like he had seen knights do for the ladies of the castle. "I can't promise we'll be serving that order today, but I might be able to do a roasted game bird and nuts."

"That'd do me," Ruch said.

So Will headed for the snares. They had a couple of birds; he was calling them pheasants because they had a similarity to the ones back home and the oramine word for them was gibberish to his ears. He swung them over his shoulder and foraged for fruit and nuts.

Sirisa had described the locations for where she had found fruit trees. Will was just bundling up his third mango in his cloak (nowdays it was a bag and a bandage before it was a ranger cloak) when he noticed movement in his peripheral vision.

Most people would have spun around and peered intently at the spot. Will turned away and continued to tie up his cloak. He knew his peripheral vision would pick up a threat better than direct staring.

He was all too aware that he had the bleeding carcasses of pheasants over his shoulder. That was bound to attract predators. He hefted the cloak of magoes and nuts under his arm and turned to leave.

A thought occurred to him. What if it was a tribesperson hiding in the bushes? He didn't want to lead them back to camp. Will had to return sometime even if he did lead them on a wild goose chase. He could possibly drop the food when they'd gone a distance, roll into cover and ghost back to the campsite. But that would be foolish if it was just a wild animal; he'd lose the food for no reason.

Will came to a decision. He faced the bushes, though he made sure to keep his eyes roaming around for more threats.

"Who's there?" he called. "Show yourself!"

There was nothing, not even a breath of wind. He waited. When ten minutes passed without anything happening, he crossed over to where he'd seen the movement. He brushed aside the dark green leaves. There in the soil was a pawprint.

An animal then. He knelt down to examine it. The thing with tracking was to know what you're looking at, you have to have seen the print before. This one had a passing resemblence wild cats, but it was bigger. Much bigger.

Will didn't much like the thought that a predator that big had been three metres away from him. He hadn't heard it, or seen it slink away after the rustle of bushes.

It would be good to have the spears finished.

Will hurried back to camp. He didn't tell the others about his discovery; he didn't want to frighten them, especially Lillian who was prone to panic. They ate lunch and then kept on crafting their spears.

Halt woke again. Will excused himself to talk to his mentor, claiming that if someone didn't keep a close eye on him, Halt would keep trying to move around. He used this time to whisper in Halt's ear about the print.

"Sounds like a tiger," Halt said. "What's that bird doing over there? Cook it. You don't want raw meat lying around the campsite."

"We were saving it for dinner," Will said, but he saw the point, so he roasted that one too and they stuffed themselves with a second lunch. He tossed bones and leftover bits as far from camp as he was willing to walk.

Time had never passed as slowly as it did in the jungle. Evening came years after morning. They had all started to bicker again, so Will told them they'd done well and it was time to call it a day.

The girls had finished two spear handles. Lillian showed one of the spears to Halt and they both sat fingering the smooth surface of wood. The rest of them had been working with the obsidian and their hands hurt too much to admire the texture of wood.

There hadn't been much progress with the spear heads. They had worked hard on them, but it took a long time to carve the rock. Ruch had done the best, he had two sides out of three flat and narrowed to a point.

This is how they spent their time over the next few days. There were ups and downs. Doing something, achieving something, rather than sitting around camp kept their spirits high. That is, until there was a day with little food and they became short tempered. Then there would be a fight between Sirisa and Lillian. The word 'jujoan' was tossed around a lot.

Halt woke at irregular intervals. At first, he tried to get up. Will told him that if he was well enough to sit up, he was well enough to start carving and after that the ranger decided he might as well lie down and stare at the canopy.

The spear handles were finished before the tops and Sirisa joined in making the heads. Lillian was then appointed to tying on the heads to the handles. They had five handles and only two heads, so this wasn't a huge job.

It soon became apparent that it was difficult for her. They had sacrificed a few snares for the string. The shape was tricky to tie on effectively, so they'd sharpened the handles to a point, and gouged out a matching hole in the obsidian so they fitted together. The string was to hold it; it wouldn't stay on its own, they just hoped the strategy would help keep the spears together.

Lillian struggled to tie an adequate knot. She pricked her finger on the obsidian, and paused to suck on it. Will moved over to help her.

"Like this," he said and demonstrated a better knot.

"Can foreigner women not do anything on their own?" Sirisa scorned.

Lillian flushed. "What is your problem?" she asked, her voice strained. "It's all you ever talk about. I'm Sirisa, I'm just so much better at everything than everyone else. I don't like foreigners because I'm a close minded jujoan!"

Will wished the courier would go back to being shy. He could see Sirisa's lips drawing back, her eyebrows arching down.

"You don't know anything!" she snapped. "You're all the same. You think you have a right to do anything you want, trample on anyone you want! You think you know all about Oramin but you don't! You don't know anything!" Her voice had risen to a scream.

"Quiet," Will said, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "You don't want those tribespeople to hear us, if they're still around."

"Don't tell me to be quiet! I don't have to listen to a foreigner. You don't know anything."

"You're right," Will said. "I don't know much at all. What I do know is, this is your fault we're in this mess, not the fault of us foreigners." He shouldn't have let himself get drawn in, shouldn't have pointed fingers.

Sirisa spun on her heel and disappeared into the jungle. Ruch rose, taking a step after her.

"Sirisa!" he called. "Come back!"

Will placed a hand on the old man's shoulder. "I'll get her," he assured. "You keep working on the spears."

"Wait, take this," Lillian said, holding out the only finished spear, the one he had helped her tie the knot of. Will nodded.

"Thanks," he said. It didn't give him the sense of security that holding his bow gave him. This weapon was crudely made and the wood felt lifeless, unfamiliar in his hand. Even so, he remembered the tiger pawprint and was grateful to have anything with a point.

He headed off into the depths of the jungle, the spear held at his side. "Sirisa?" he called as he walked. It was late in the day; the sun was begginning to set, hence why they were all tired and grumpy. "Sirisa, it's almost nightfall. You know there are dangerous animals prowling at night. Come back to the camp."

His voice echoed rang loud in the still forest. It was wrong, it felt all wrong to be making noise. Will stopped and closed his eyes. He listened. A whimpering noise came from somewhere above him.

"Sirisa?" he called again, this time more quietly. He thought he saw a shadowy movement in the tree. Will tucked the spear under his arm and climbed smoothly up the trunk.

"Go away," she muttered. She was perched on a branch, her legs drawn to her chin and her arms wrapped around them.

Will got comfortable on another branch. He was close enough to talk to her, and far enough away to have a respectful distance between them, like he might when dealing with animals.

"I climb when I'm upset too," he said. "Back in the ward, there was a someone I didn't get along with at all. When we had a fight, I would go right to the top of a tree where he couldn't reach me. I felt safe there." There was no reaction from Sirisa, though she had stopped her crying. He continued, "I suppose that's harder here where everyone can climb trees. You might be better off on the ground. Even so, there's something magical about being in the high branches, don't you agree?"

Whether she did or not, she didn't say. Instead, she asked quietly, "the ward, what is that?"

So Will told her about being an orphan, about growing up in the ward with Horace, George, Jenny and Alyss.

"I'm an orphan too," Sirisa said. "We don't have a ward in Oramin. Ruch let me sleep in his home on the condition I cleaned for him until I was old enough to move out."

"That must have been tough," Will said.

"No it wasn't," Sirisa sniffed. "It would have been tough if I was a jujoan. I'm not."

He wasn't sure what to say to that. After a period of silence broken by the whisper of the forest, Sirisa asked, "how did your parents die?"

Will told her about Morgarath and the battle of Hackham Heath. He told her about Daniel saving Halt and how Halt had taken him back to Redmont. In return, Sirisa told him her story.

The conflict between Oramin and Aras was one that had gone on for decades. When Sirisa was six, her father and older brothers left to fight the Arasi. They were to travel around the forest and meet the Arasi with their swords and spears on the plains. Sirisa had not understood this at the time. When she asked her father where they were going he told her, 'we have to defend our country from foreigners.'

Her mother had passed away from an illness years ago. Her father and brothers never came back.

It was dark by now. Will sensed that any words of sympathy he might have come up with would be lost in the black before they reached Sirisa.

"We should get back to camp," he said.

"Alright," Sirisa sighed.

They slipped nimbly down the tree and onto the forest floor.

"I can't see anything," Sirisa complained. Will admitted that they'd never get back to camp without a light.

"Hold up," he said. "I've got my flint. I'll see if I can make a torch." He felt around for a dry stick. There was no shortage of ferns and lichen to use as kindling.

He arranged his collection on the ground. He'd light a fire on the forest floor, then hold astick to it to light his torch. Will scraped at the soil around his makeshift fireplace with his fingernails. He didn't want any loose greenery catching.

"Hurry up," Sirisa muttered. Down from the safety of the tree, the darkness was much more frightening.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Will hissed. He flicked his flint stones against each other. One spark. Two. Three and the fire caught. He leaned over it, nursing it to life.

"Will," Sirisa said, a tremble in her voice.

"Hang on, almost there," Will said, hunched over his fire.

"Will look," she said. The panic was evident in her tone. Will frowned and looked up.

The orange and black pelt of a tiger glowed in the firelight from behind the leaves of a bush. Its eyes glinted, watching them, assessing how good a meal they would make.


	14. Chapter 14

**Please forgive my ignorance. I have no excuse but I just can't find it in myself to spend ages researching tiger behaviour, at least, not for a fanfiction. Original writing sure, but fanfiction is a very lazy outlet for me. **

**Chapter 14**

Will had never seen a tiger before. At first he didn't recognise what it was. Then he recalled Lillian describing the animals of Oramin on the Skandian ship, referring to the dozens of old, decaying books she had studied in the candlelight. She'd called their striped fur 'exquisite' and their faces 'noble'.

She hadn't mentioned behaviour or how to kill them with one crudely made spear. Lillian had always been bigger on the 'how do the Oramine feel about tigers?' side of things. Until she'd gotten to know the Oramine, namely Sirisa, and now she had developed an attitude leaning towards, 'who gives a damn what the Oramine think."

Will tightened his hold on the spear. It was slippery in his hand. He wished he'd been more alert- what sort of a ranger was he to have it pointed out to him that there was a giant cat there? Halt would be disappointed, even if tigers could move in total silence. Anyway, he wished more that he had his ninety pound draw bow with him, and a quiver of razer sharp arrows.

The amber eyes held him captive and he fancied he saw a light of curiosity there. Sirisa clutched his arm. He could feel her trembling.

"Don't look in its eyes," Sirisa whispered. "They're supposed to hate that."

For once, he was glad to have an Oramine with him, someone who knew things about the local wildlife. Will swallowed and dropped his gaze, focusing instead on the jaw that was held slightly open, providing a lovely view of the teeth.

Will took a pace backwards. The tiger stepped forwards to match. Its powerful shoulders appeared through the leaves. He knew some animals in Araluen, like boars, wildcats and bears would take more interest in a running target than one that was standing still. If this tiger was the same, he didn't know.

"Sirisa? Do we stand still?" he whispered.

"I-I think so," she stammered, her hands clenching around his arm.

He could sense her fear, but she did not move as the tiger prowled closer. It padded up to them, circling them, sizing them up. Will followed its movements with the spear. The obsidian that he'd been estatic to find wasn't as reassuring as he'd thought it would be.

The tiger growled at the spear, perhaps recognising the threat. It occurred to Will that it might have seen similar weapons with the tribespeople. Its tail flicked in irritation.

He saw the muscles bunch and had barely enough time to react. Claws and teeth gleamed in the firelight and Will seized Sirisa, the two of them rolling out of the way. The spear jabbed at his thigh and there was searing heat on his arm. He tried to recover his composure, noting instantly that the tiger had paused and was suspicious of the fire.

When they had moved, his arm had crossed the fireplace and now burned where his sleeve had caught fire. Will twisted onto his front to smother it against the ground, aware that his legs were tangled with Sirisa's and he'd dropped the spear. She squirmed away from him, staggering to her feet.

With his the fire on his sleeve put out, Will turned his attention to the tiger. He retrieved the spear and pointed it at the beast. In another situation, he might have thought the rippling pelt to be beautiful. As it was, he had no time for admiration.

It growled and strolled around the fire. Will and Sirisa edged around as well, making sure to keep the flames between themselves and the tiger. They huddled together as they moved, the spearpoint held steady at the tiger's forehead.

"What do we do? What do we do?" Sirisa hissed, the whites of her eyes shining.

Will struggled to stay calm and think reasonably. "Can it climb?"

"Yes."

"Swim?"

"Yes." Sirisa was sounding more desperate by the second.

Will ground his teeth together. It would surely eat them if they stayed put. The tiger paused, studying them a safe distance from the fire.

Will seized a branch from the fire and waved it, lighting up the air with sparks. The tiger snarled. He passed the burning branch to Sirisa, then whipped up another one for himself. Somehow, they made him feel safer than the spear did.

"Back!" Sirisa yelled, her voice shaky. "Get back!" She waved the branch as Will had done and she looked far more manic than the tiger did.

It seemed to lose patience with them, and not in a good I'll-just-go-home-then kind of way. The tiger gathered its powerful muscles beneath it and raced around the fire.

"Move, move!" Will cried as he dragged her back, waving the torch. Snapping jaws were centimetres from his face but the flailing torch warned them back and singed the tiger's nose.

"Run!" Sirisa lost her nerve. Will was right behind her, tripping over roots and thankfully regaining his balance before he fell. They twisted and swerved as best they could. Their best was no where near that of a tiger. He realised it had been a bad idea to leave the bigger fire. And here, in the jungle, bad ideas were deadly.

Will sensed it was right behind him. He risked a glance over his shoulder, crying out as he saw it would take only a few more seconds for the tiger to pounce. He swung the branch around and it hesitated at the sparks, which provided momentary relief.

"Split up," he said to Sirisa and changed course. He hoped he'd be the one that was hunted to allow Sirisa to get back to camp. When he glanced around, he saw her firelight glittering through the trees. He swung his own light around, slowing to a halt because the tiger wasn't around him.

"Damn," he said to himself and darted through the dense growth of trees to find Sirisa. Her light was obscured by trunks, then it would reappear some metres ahead. His heart pounded and he could taste metallic blood in his throat.

He caught a flash through the trees. Sirisa had tripped and was sprawled on her back, swinging the torch at the tiger that was seconds away from killing her. Will had no time for doubts. He lifted the spear over his shoulder as he ran and sent it spinning with all the force he could muster.

It struck the tiger smack in its side. Its ears flattened back and it roared in pain, turning to Will with bloodlust in its amber eyes. Sirisa crawled back, panting. It had been a lucky shot; Will was no great hand a spear throwing. He had, in fact, been aiming for its throat.

Now, he skidded to a stop, almost falling over himself in his hurry to turn and sprint for cover. The tiger shot after him, its pain making it disregard the fire it feared. Will would have been dead if not for his spear. It jolted against a trunk and the tiger's pace slowed as agony tore through its system.

Sirisa had regained her footing and even though she was breathing hard, and the cuts on her hands had reopened, she lunged for the spear sticking from the tiger's side. She braced herself, trying to pull it one handed from its flesh while her other hand held her torch. If not for her, Will would surely have died that night, and he made sure to tell her that whenever she ranted about foreigners- priase calmed her down somewhat, even praise from a foreigner.

She pressed the torch against its fur, burning it. The tiger twisted and snapped. She was thrown around; lost her footing, bruised and battered, but she held onto the spear grimly and kept jabbing at its side with the burning branch. This all took place in seconds, and with a furious growl and a shake, the torch slipped from her grasp.

Giving up on dislodging her, the tiger barrolled through the trees, straight at Will. He barely had time to dive out of the way. Sirisa lost her puchase and rolled on the ground, the spear tearing from its flesh with her. She was shaking as she clutched the weapon close and tears rolled down her cheeks.

The tiger skidded around, charging back at Will, who was closer. He staggered bakwards as he shoved the flaming banch at its face. A jagged stick that twisted off the branch stabbed its eye. It shook its head to clear it, blood trickling from the eye like it was crying.

Will clumsily staggered the distance to Sirisa backwards. He had to rip the spear from her hands, she was holding onto it for dear life. The tiger growled and ran at him. Will struggled against his legs- don't run, don't move- and as the tiger's mouth opened, he pushed the spear between its lips with all his might, ramming it right down the tigers throat.

Blood mixed with foam around its lips and it made strangled little whimpers. Will pulled the spear back because it would be useful later. He felt oddly cold and empty as the tiger sank to the ground.

With the bloodstained spear, he carefully finished it off. He didn't want it to suffer any more. The blood pooling from its mouth and eye didn't seem right on such a majestic creature. Will knelt beside it and stroked the fur around its neck.

"Thank you," he said, because now they were out of immediate danger, he could see the tiger was a blessing. It- no, _he, _Will correctedd himself- would provide both food and blankets.

Will tossed the bloodied spear up and down in his hand. It was, he decided, not a crudely made weapon at all, or even remotely feeble. This was a weapon worthy of any warrior and he was very, very pleased that he had found that obsidian.

He still felt hollowed out. It wasn't unfamiliar, he got the feeling when he killed. Not all the time, not in the heat of battle. It was afterwards, when he walked among the dead bodies and saw the weeping widows, and he couldn't find it in himself to cry because none of his friends had died, but he recognised the massacre looked much more terrible now it was over and he just felt lost.

Will gave the tiger one last stroke. It may have been the brutality of the agonising death that got to him. He wasn't even sure, the only emotion that was definate was relief at being alive. He did as Halt had taught him to do and searched for what was practical.

He stamped out the torch Sirisa had dropped. The flames were starting to spread and he made sure they were well and truly out before he moved over to her.

"We're alright now," he said. She had her knees drawn to her chin, clutching Will's torch as if it was her last hope with silent tears. He held out a hand to her and she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She shuddered and he held her steady until her knees stopped shaking.

Sirisa tried to give him back the torch. He shook his head, pressing her hands around it.

"You hold onto it for now," he said.

They didn't dare seperate, so he took her with him back to the fire he had lighted for torches. He stamped it out. The last thing they needed was a forest fire. Then they trekked to where the tiger lay dead.

Will lifted its shoulders and head, grunting with the effort and holding the spear awkwardly as well as a handfull of fur. Sirisa hesitated.

"Come on," he said. "We should get it back to camp."

"I'm not touching it," Sirisa croaked. She had managed to stop her tears as he put out the fire, but he could see they weren't far away.

"Sirisa, please," Will begged. "Just think of curling up under a soft fur, completely warm for the first time since we've been out here."

He saw her waver. Her eyelashes fluttered with a dreamy look- to spend a night without the chill burrowing into her bones. A luxury, one they'd thought they wouldn't have for a long time.

"Fine," she said, hefting the back legs up over her shoulder. She still had the torch and she held it pressed against the pelt to help support the weight. As they trudged along, arms aching, eyelids heavy, Will thanked her for saving his life and said she most certainly was the most un-jujoan person he'd ever met. She told him un-jojoan wasn't a phrase but that she wouldn't expect a foreigner to know any better, that of course she wasn't a jujoan and no one would mistake her for one, and then she thanked him for saving her in turn.

They had to stop and rest several times, because the tiger was heavy. After a while, the branch burned to Sirisa's fingertips and she threw it away with a yelp. They stamped it out and the pitch black descended on them. Will ushured her on; the landscape was familiar here and he thought he could keep going in a straight line, even in the dark. Sure enough, they stumbled from behind a tree and saw the glow of their campfire.

There were, of course, a heap of questions when they turned up bloody and the cause of the blood being a massive tiger. Sirisa went straight to bed and Will stayed up to explain what had happened. He ommitted the part when they'd talked up the tree because he felt that would be invading her privacy, and instead skipped straight to the tiger, which was what everyone wanted to hear about anyway.

He didn't want the meat attracting more predators, so despite his exhaustion, he and Ruch gutted and skinned it. Halt was awake, so he took the watch from his bed, to allow Will and Lillian to sleep while Ruch and Antil took their own burning branch, walked a while away from camp, and balanced the meat and skins in a tree. They returned with the resolution to turn the pelt into blankets in the morning. One of them took over the watch, Will never knew which one, because he was fast asleep by this point.

With an uneventful next few days, they settled back into their rythym. The fur of the tiger was stiched up by Lillian, who turned out to be a talented sewer, into three blankets, one a bit smaller than the others. Even Sirisa couldn't criticise the courier for this. Without discussing it, they ended up taking turns with the blankets. One night Lillian and Antil curled up under them, the next night Ruch and Sirisa, and so on. The third blanket, the smallest one, was given to Halt every night. On the occassions he woke, he argued vehemently about this and forced someone else to accept it. But once he fell asleep, Will would silently tuck the blanket around him again.

The ate like pigs for two days, working their way through the meat. Any longer and it would go off, so they were determined to get through as much of it as they could. As a consequence, spirits were high for those two days. There was no fighting. The word 'jujoan' was not mentioned even once.

After that, they had to return to despair on seeing an empty snare. The knawing hunger seemed ever more potent after those two days of royal feasting, and the nuts Sirisa managed to find seemed less exciting as they had done before the tiger.

Tempers flared, cooled, and now Will came up with a rule. If anyone began to feel short tempered or frustrated, it was a good time to take a walk and do some foraging. At first, they were apprehensive about going off on their own- the ordeal with the tiger had shaken them, but as more days passed and nothing else dramatic happened, they found that a walk did calm their tempers and some time alone was welcomed.

They also discovered knew things by wandering off to knew places. Antil found a scrap of rope half covered in dirt, just lying abandoned on the ground. They didn't want to think about where the original owner was, but rope was a handy tool that had many a use. Will used it to help tie up the shelter, to make it more secure against bad weather.

Sirisa stumbled across a tamarind tree, which added some variety to their diet. Ruch found cashews and bananas. Lillian didn't venture far enough from camp to find much at all. And the most obvious thing they all noticed was that the swamp was receding with the friendly weather. Before long, they would be able to try and fish from the river.

Fishing was Will's idea and he hadn't received much support on it. The others weren't keen to go anywhere near the giant fish and they certainly didn't want to upset it by killing the residents of the river. If they got hungry enough, they'd come around, Will knew. At the moment when he impressed this idea on Sirisa, claiming that she could handle a giant fish if she'd wrestled for a spear with a tiger, she scoffed and said the river monster was an entirely different matter, though she blushed at the high praise.

Then came the day that had them all grinning and high fiving, then wincing as their cut hands connected. They finished the weapons. Five spears, one for each of them, not counting Halt because that would encourage the ranger to fight and he was in no condition to be doing so. Halt didn't complain, he shared Will's first impression on the unfamiliar weapons and he was no great fan of spears. He hadn't had a run in with a tiger to change his mind.

Will also had a dagger, made from the chunk of obsidian that was as long as his wrist to his fingertip. The actual blade was half that because he'd wrapped the top in cloth from his ranger cloak and fur from the tiger to protect his hand. It was crude and jagged, they'd spent more time on the spear heads so the blade was a bit chunkier then the blacksmiths in Redmont would have liked, and it had two points, one closer to the handle than the other. Will smiled and sliced it through the air. It was no saxe knife, but it was all he had.

Ruch also had a sword, similar to the jagged edge of the knife with the cloth handle. His was from the large piece of obsidian, the one they'd used as a saw to break of branches. He preferred his spear but he'd been getting creative with crafting and hadn't wanted to waste the big piece. He had offered it to the others, in particular Halt who didn't have a weapon, but no one else had any experience with a sword so it made sense he keep it for himself.

"Well done everyone!" Will said, not at all caring about his cut and bleeding hands. It felt good to accomplish something.

**Well crap, Sirisa may have had a Mary-Sue moment in there... damn the girl, she wasn't doing what I told her. Hopefully it wasn't too bad...I can't have my Ocs being _completely_ useless. **

**I felt terribly sorry for the tiger, myself. I was rooting for it really, the poor thing. **


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

"Please sit down," Will tried.

"No."

"Please?'

"Not a chance."

"Halt!" Will complained. "You'll reopen your wound."

Halt glowered at him. It was a considerably less terrifying scowl because of the sickly pallor of his skin and that he was shaking. He clutched Will's shoulders to steady himself. The young man took the opportunity to grip his mentor's elbows, holding him in place.

"Antil, tell him he has to sit down," Will tried. Antil repeated this in a less than enthusiastic tone and Halt didn't even grace the healer with a glance in his direction. The other three were grouped around the campfire, wisely staying out of the discussion.

"Let go of me Will Treaty," Halt warned. Will tightened his hold.

"If you're well enough to walk you should be able to break my grip," he challenged. Halt's glare darkened.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said curtly. But the when he tried to tug his arms away it was a disappointing effort and Will couldn't help wincing inside at the feebleness of his mentor at present time.

"Halt, just sit down," Will encouraged, "and let Antil give you the pain killers."

"He can give them to me while I'm standing." The ranger's glared at each other, one as stubborn as a mule and the other trained to be the same. Antil cleared his throat several times. He fiddled with the herbs.

"If you sit down now you'll regain you're strength faster," Will reasoned. "Then you'll be able to run around all you like."

Halt bristled, a bruise forming over his dignity. He didn't like being lectured by his apprentice (he would always consider Will to be that no matter how many years past) and he certainly didn't like that he couldn't pull free of the hands on his elbows.

Their thunderous gazes met and the others could almost see stags locking antlers in the air above them, a tsunami meets a forest fire, the first clash of the battle where neither side would back down. Will wouldn't release his mentor because he feared Halt would hurt himself, and Halt refused to sit down. They could see no immediate solution to the impasse.

"Time for me to go foraging," Sirisa declared.

"I volunteer to check the snares," Ruch said.

"I'll help you!" Lillian scampered after the old man.

Antil watched them disappear, then turned his attention back to the pig headed rangers. He cleared his throat again. His eyebrows arched in a regal manner that he learnt from the long forgotten days of being a doctor in the Oramine court.

"What was that," he began, "about working together?"

Will smiled ruefully. He searched the healer's face for some humour, but those dark eyes were as dead as always. He sometimes thought Antil didn't much care if he lived or died. And sometimes in the darkest hours of night Will could understand the sentiment. They were so cut off from the outside world in the jungle that they might as well be gone altogether. Alyss was a distant memory, still it was her and the sun on castle Redmont that kept him hoping.

"You're right," Will conceded. "Halt and I also need to work together. Right, Halt?"

"Of course," Halt agreed smoothly. "So let me be and carry on with your day."

"I think not. A better solution would be if you rested and I got to collect water without worrying about your safety."

"That isn't agreeable to me."

Will could see he wasn't going to win this one. Nothing he could say about safety would get through to his mentor.

"Fine." He vented an exasperated sigh. Halt preened though his irritable stubborness was not something to be proud of.

"I'm glad we're agreed."

Antil was also glad they'd agreed. "Do you want those pain killers now?" he offered and Halt considered it, his pride allowing him to ignore his former apprentice's not-so-discreet mouthing of the words 'give them to him anyway'. He needn't have bothered, Halt decided that some relief from the pain rippling from his stomach was welcome.

He sauntered over to Antil, tossing a smug look at Will over his shoulder. The younger man crossed his arms, annoyed and a fraction upset that his opinion on whether or not Halt was well enough to walk had been ignored.

As good as it was to see his mentor up and about, he worried that Halt would push himself too far. It wouldn't be the first time. In Will's fourth year of training, his undefeatable mentor came down with a cold. It was the middle of winter and he just kept making them keep on riding,camping, tracking and all the other ranger shenanigans they got up to, until he emptied his stomach in the bushes and came down with a raging fever. It wouldn't have been nearly as bad if he'd just taken a day off to recover, Redmont's healer had told them.

Although, he had to smile at the memory. After that, he'd been too nervous to tell Halt when he fell ill in case the ranger was disappointed or thought him weak for not pushing on. Ironically, when the grizzled, stubborn ranger found out he told his apprentice it was foolish to go beyond one's limits and made him stay in bed all day.

Well, whatever his mentor said, Will wasn't going to leave the clearing if he wasn't sure Halt would take proper care of himself. It was true he had grown to trust Antil, yet the healer wasn't very assertive and even assertive men had cowed to Halt when the ranger dug his heels in and declared the proceedings that would happen or else.

"It tastes disgusting," Halt complained. He'd lifted the herbs to his mouth, touched them with his tongue, screwed up his face and now was frowning at the fidgeting healer.

"It will ease your pain," Antil said.

"And ruin my taste buds," Halt muttered. Will wondered if he'd be in a better mood after he took the medicine and wasn't in as much pain. With that thought came impatience for his mentor to hurry up and eat it already before he made them all suffer.

"You're a terrible patient," Will said. "Just take the pain killers."

Halt cocked his head, looking mildly disturbed. "You know," he said, "Pauline has said those exact words many a time."

"Pauline knows best," Will agreed. "Maybe you should listen to her."

"Actually I think Crowley has said them as well," Halt mused, looking thoughtful.

"Halt, everyone who knows you has said something along those lines," Will said patiently. "Why don't you listen to the whole of Araluen and her uncle Charlie and the horses and dogs and old Billy who lives by the creek and take the painkillers?"

"That was a bit excessive," Halt observed, one eyebrow quirking up. Will's lips twitched at the expression. It felt like an age since he'd seen that particular quizzical look. "Getting a bit theatrical there, are you?"

"A bit stir crazy with all these trees and not much else," Will agreed.

"There's nothing wrong with trees," Halt told him. "They don't nag at you to take your medicine. They don't ask questions either."

He swallowed the herbs and grimanced. Will grinned at him.

"That bad?"

"You have no idea."

Antil was sorting out what herbs he had, what ones he needed and starting to mix up a concotion to ward off infection. Will wasn't looking forward to the fuss his mentor would make when they had to check over his wound.

As it was, he shouldn't have worried. Antil toold him later that he'd added a herb to make the ranger sleepy amongst the painkillers. Before long, Halt had eased himself to the ground. Will helped him onto the tiger fur, conscious of a tight hold on his shoulder because while Halt was alright when standing, the transition from standing to sitting (and vice versa) caused him considerable pain even with the herbs in his system.

"What are all these four?" Halt asked, motioning to the piles of leaves. "Why do you need so many? I don't need this much medicine."

"If Antil says you do, you do," Will said.

"Antil's wrong," Halt said shortly.

"With all due respect," Antil spoke up, an edge of offense layering his voice, "I've been a healer for a long time now."

He proved this by giving a detailed explanation of why each leaf was necessary, adorning his speech with both medical terms and Oramine words to ensure it sounded impressive enough. Halt remained unimpressed and muttered that it sounded like gibberish to him. His eyelids were drooping and it didn't take him long to fall asleep. It was never known if he heard Will apologising for his rudeness on his behalf because he didn't want Antil to slip back into depression or decide he didn't want to help the ranger.

Once he was asleep Antil and Will checked over his wound. They washed it, applied the suitable herbs and rebound it in another strip of ranger cloak.

Satisfied that his mentor was subdued, Will decided he would go off on his usual exploration of the area in search of a clue, a hint, anything to get them out of here.

"Watch him closely," he instructed. "I won't be long and if he starts wanting to, I don't know, investigate the river for a way home, tell him Pauline would be angry if he left his bedroll."

"Pauline would be angry, got it."

Will was learning the landmarks around their campsite. Each day he could go further and further without fearing he would get lost in the dense jungle. He decided to take another look around the rocks where he'd found the obsidian.

Rocks gave him a welcomed break from the moist green. He kicked a loose stone with his toe, sending it cluttering a metre or so. Dark shards of obsidian dotted the ground. He wondered where it had come from. Had it formed here in Oramin, or had it been washed here long ago? He couldn't help thinking that it looked as if someone had found a massive boulder of it and hacked off piece after piece until the rocks were littered with black stars.

"Did the tribespeople have obsidian spears?" Will asked himself. He had developed a habit of musing aloud when he was alone. It helped to hear a voice even if it was his own. At first, he had been concerned that he was going mad, but he supposed it was just a step up from talking to Tug. Either way, no one talked back though Tug tried his best to communicate.

A lump rose in his throat and tears prickled in his eyes. The reaction was so sudden and unexpected that he touched his cheek just under his eye as a single tear fell. It was not Alyss that finally got to him, it was his faithful horse and Alyss, Horace, Redmont, the baron and everyone else came flooding through his system after Tug knocked down his barriers.

Will slowly curled over his knees, huddling on the ground. He could see them, taste them, so real, so much more prominent and _right here_ than he had been able to imagine before now. The smell of Jenny's cooking was oh so close. The tickle of Alyss's hair against his neck. The shing as Horace unshathed his sword. Arald's ridiculous speeches, the humdrum farmers that waved hello, the soldiers on the battlements.

Never was a long time to not see someone. That was why they had to escape from the jungle.

He allowed himself to let his emotions get the better of him. Back when he was a child, he could throw himself on the bed and sob his heart out when he was upset. What a waste because back then, he didn't know what upset was. As a ranger he had to keep a lasso around his emotions. He could allocate some time to cry if he needed it. He could not wait for his tears to dry on their own. After a minute, he had to scrub his cheeks, stand up and keep on walking.

Will searched for the ring in his pocket. He folded his fist over it. It was safe in his pocket and he didn't dare remove it. Surperstition perhaps, but he couldn't shake the feeling that if the Oramine sun spotted the band of gold it would find a way to take it from him.

He shouted out as he lost his footing. Or rather, his foot lost the ground. Where he had stepped, the rocks had crumbled away, leaving his foot knee deep in a hollow.

"That was strange," Will muttered. He twisted his leg free of the ground. Back on secure footing, he shrugged to himself and headed back to camp. There was no point in continueing that way if the earth was to disappear under him. He didn't want to risk a broken leg.

Besides, he couldn't see anything of interest. He trusted that Ruch would check all the snares and they could discuss what to do for the rest of the day when they met back at camp. Will was determined that they work through everything as a team and when the others had their grumpy moments, he would bring up the success of the weapons making to point out the value of teamwork.

He did have his spear with him at present. Will remembered once seeing a poacher in Seacliff thank a deer after he killed it. When Will had queried this, he'd said that it was just something hunters did to show their appreciation and respect to the dead animal. Halt had never practised this. He was more of the mindset 'it's dead, it doesn't care if you thank it or not'.

Will thought he understood where the hunting tradition had come from. He inclined his head and thanked the earth for giving him the obsidian. It was too easy for the jungle to work against them. So he thanked it for going easy on them, for giving them tools and food, even if at times they did not deserve it.

Will sensed that something was amiss before he reached the campsite. He fought off a tremor of fear for his mentor and doubled his efforts to tread in stealh. A redwood tree provided adequate cover to duck behind. He edged his face around, drawing the cowl of his mutilated cloak over his head.

The first thing to draw his attention was Halt, leaning against the trunk of a tree, his hand on his stomach. The next thing, because he was too experienced to give in to his desire to rush over to his mentor straght away, was that Antil was nowhere in sight.

A further scan of the territory revealed no hidden threats. Coming to a decision, Will clenched the spear and approached his mentor.

Halt turned at his soft footfalls. It eased Will's racing mind to see that while his mentor appeared haggard and concerned, there was no immediate fear in his eyes. He loosened his hold on the spear.

"Where's Antil?" he asked.

"Lillian showed up in tears and asked him to come with her," Halt supplied. "I would have followed them but..." he trailed off and glared down at his bandaged middle, then switched his glare to his former apprentice, daring him to comment.

"He just left you here on your own?" Will asked, stricken. He cleared the thought from his mind, realising that for all his faults, Antil wouldn't have done so unless there had been a reason. Halt's glare sharpened and Will hurried on. "What's going on? Has someone been hurt?"

"Ruch," Halt confirmed. "That's all I could make out."

Torn, Will knew he couldn't leave Halt alone. Equally, he couldn't do nothing without knowing what was going on. As if reading his mind, Halt painfully pushed away from the tree.

"I'll be fine. I'll...watch the camp." He actually grimanced as he said it. Will knew he hated admitting weakness. "You go and help the others. They'll need a leader."

Will hesitated.

"Go on," Halt encouraged. "I'll even sit down." He made his way to the tiger pelts and eased his way to the ground, a hiss whistling past his teeth. "Sirisa will be back soon anyway. She can help me watch the camp."

"Alright," Will nodded.

"Will?"

"Yes Halt?"

"Stay safe."

Will smiled. "You too," he said. He tried to give Halt his spear but the ranger muttered that he was wasting time so he gave up on that idea. Halt pointed out the direction they'd gone. Will hoped it wouldn't be hard to find them. He didn't think it would be; Ruch had been checking the snares so there was a limited number of places he could be.

It didn't take long to find them. Towards where the swamp had been, he heard high pitched, hysterical sobs. Will quickened his pace. He didn't know what he expected. A broken leg maybe, or a large predator (like that tiger). What he did see surprised him.

Lillian had her head in her hands, utterly frantic. Ruch was lying perfectly still on the ground, his eyes shut and his mouth gaping in raspy breath. Antil leaned over him, his lips against the man's calf, sucking and spitting.

"What's going on?" Will asked. Lillian let out a little shriek and ran to him. He put a supportive arm around her shoulders, even though he didn't consider himself to be the strong pillar she needed to lean against. His heart thudded in his chest and he had a horrible feeling.

Antil didn't even acknowledge him. He was too busy dealing with-with whatever he was dealing with, Will failed to figure out what exactly it was. That was the way it should be for a healer and he turned to Lillian for answers.

"Lillian." He brushed the tears from her cheeks and forced her to look at him. "Calm down. Just tell me what happened?"

She let out a shaky breath and jerked her head up and down. "We were checking the snares," she said in a tremulous voice, the words spilling from her. "There was-it was- I didn't even see it, I had turned to go back but when I turned around he wasn't with me. And then- then I went back for him and he-" she couldn't finished and shuddered.

"And what, Lillian?" Will encouraged. He had to force back a desire to shake her until he got answers.

"He-he was holding his ankle. He looked up at me and lifted his spear and-oh lord- on the end was this snake."

Will had already scanned the area and there was no abandoned spear, least of all with a snake on the end.

Lillian continued: "He had tears on his face and he groaned. I-I tried to lift him and take him back to the campsite and at first he said I was being brave and not to worry. Then he couldn't speak anymore, he started stumbling any which way and slumping. I couldn't carry him any further, he wasn't able to walk."

Which explained why the spear wasn't around, they must have left it behind. Will looked to where Antil was sucking and spitting from Ruch's leg. It made sense now. He prayed that the snakes in Oramin weren't too venomous.

"Then you ran and got Antil," Will finished for her. She whimpered confirmation.

Antil sat back on his heels. He rested his air against Ruch's chest then over his lips, touched two fingers to the fluttery pulse in his throat and wrists. He turned dull eyes on them and they knew.

"What type of snake?" Will asked, amazed that his voice didn't waver.

"Cobra," Antil answered. That had been the first thing he'd asked when Lillian had fetched him. She'd described what she'd seen and he filled in the gaps.

Ruch let out a shuddering breath. Antil pressed a hand to his forehead. This was not a medical gesture. It was comfort.

"He has no time left," Antil whispered. "He's been through all the stages. Pain, vertigo and drowsiness, paralysis, a coma and all that is left now is heart failure."

Will couldn't believe it. "How can that be?" In battle, sure, he had lost more than one comrade. But there had to be a warning. There was always a warning. It couldn't come out of nowhere. That wasn't right, it wasn't fair!

"In some cases, cobra poison can take only thirty minutes to kill," Antil said. Right on cue, his eyelashes flickered and defeat crossed his face as he touched Ruch's neck. Will knew by that expression that the pulse had stopped.

Will couldn't cry for him. It wouldn't sink in. Only this morning Ruch had been fit as anything. And there was his obsidian sword at his belt, worn with pride and unused in combat. He'd only just finished it.

It was unfathomable that, just like that, without warning, he was gone.


	16. Chapter 16

**Omigosh, looking after a chihuahua pup today. Gawd, he's so little! He's sleeping on one of my legs as I write this. He's my writing mascot today. **

**Chapter 16**

Fire. It had become a comfort to them. A luxury. A beacon of hope to latch on to. Fire chased away the predators. It warmed their hands in the bitter nights and lit up their faces in the dark. And they all had the fire. Inside of them, a pinpoint of burning light, a red hot desire to see their loved ones again.

But now fire lost these qualities. Their last comfort had been taken from them. It was hollow; a hope with no substance.

The flames did not roar and leap. Well they did, Will supposed, but he could not see them that way. The biggest fire they'd had, a real bonfire sizzling in the air, spitting up golden sparks brought only sorrow.

Will could not tear his eyes away from the glow. He was a statue frozen in time, unable to grieve, unable to comfort others. Halt's warm hand gripped his shoulder and he was sure the older ranger was watching him.

Antil had his head bowed and his hands clasped in front of him. Lillian's form flickered on the other side of the fire. Sirisa was on the ground, silent anguished tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Should we say a few words?" Lillian's voice quivered.

"I will," Sirisa said, rising to her feet. She took a few steps closer, her gaze drifting down to the base of the fire where among the logs a dark shape could be seen. She swallowed and lifted her head. The stench of burning flesh must have travelled for miles that night.

"Ruch took me in when no one else would," Sirisa began, husky and wavering. "He gave me a goal and a purpose in life- to clean, to cook, to serve. It was thanks to him that I had a bed at night, food at mealtimes and fresh clothes on my back. He was like an uncle to me." Her voice cracked. She took several deep breaths. "He taught me how to deal with grief. His wife had passed away and he had no children of his own. He was alone, just like me." The words she said next were in native Oramine. Will couldn't understand the meaning, but each syllable held an ocean of pain and perhaps a hint of anger.

Her knees sagged beneath her. No one supported her, they allowed her to crumple the ground. What were they to say? That everything was going to be alright? None of them knew that. Even Will found a positive outcome hard to imagine.

Antil stepped forward to say a few words. "Ruch was an acquantance who became a good friend during our time in the wild. He was a great strategist and an honourable man. He was the first of us to reach the inevitable end," here Will frowned, "and in a way, the first of us to escape this godforsaken jungle."

His last words echoed around the suddenly still forest. The flowers whispered; all shapes and colours of flowers, reds and purples and whites, orchids and lilies, picked and laid around the pyre.

"I'd like to say something," Lillian said.

"No," Sirisa snapped.

"He's my friend too."

Sirisa burned brighter than the fire. "No. Ruch would not want foreigners speaking at his funeral."

"I'd like to pay my respects."

"He doesn't want your respects," Sirisa spat. "Not yours, of all people."

"Ruch was my friend," Lillian argued. "He didn't care if I was a foreigner or not."

Sirisa was taking on an unhealthy purple hue. She actually snarled and roared, "it's your fault he's dead!"

"Enough," Halt demanded. Lillian sniffled and they could hear her whimpers as she started crying. Sirisa clenched her fists, fixated on the soil.

In a trembling, fatigued voice, she whispered, "if you had just gotten Antil right away, if you hadn't tried to carry him and had recognised that he wouldn't be able to get back to camp, maybe Antil would have been in time, maybe...or if you had seen the cobra. You were right there with him. If he'd been with someone else he'd still be alive. You were with him and you let him die!"

"That's enough Sirisa," Halt said firmly. "This is not Lillian's fault. What happened, happened. It's time to say our final goodbyes."

But there was nothing more to say and they stood in total silence. Halt's hand grew heavier on Will's shoulder as he tired and leaned more weight on his young friend. He didn't want to- if he'd been able, Halt would have lifted the weight of the world from Will's shoulders. But he couldn't. Not in his current condition.

They burned the flowers. There seemed no point in leaving them around to wither. Grey, wilted flowers would not give them the optimism they desperately needed to carry on.

Sleep would not visit them. They hadn't expected it to. The fire burned on for they were afraid if they doused it they would see a blackened shape still recognisable as a human body. Lillian huddled under one of the furs, as did Antil. Sirisa climbed a tree, her soft cries floating down to them.

Halt and Will sat side by side. Soon after midnight, Halt sank into a weary dreamless sleep. Will and Antil took the opportunity to change his bandages. But that was the only break in solitude. For a long time, Will stared into nothingness. He'd failed. That was all he could think. He'd become the leader of their little group, he'd assured them he'd get them home safe. And he'd failed.

Sunrise was not even the dawn of the new day, not really. It was like time had ceased moving after Ruch's sudden death. They put out the fire. All that was left of him was ash and the flowers had gone with him.

Will and Halt checked the snares. Though it was good that his mentor was recovered enough to do this chore, Will just couldn't find it in himself to cheer up entirely. He managed a few smiles here and there. They didn't partake in their usual banter. That just seemed shallow in the light of events.

To match the general atmosphere, they returned empty handed. No one was disappointed. Morale couldn't sink any lower. Sirisa had her usual collection of nuts and fruits. When she delivered them she took one look at the campfire and burst into tears.

Halt now had Ruch's spear. They couldn't bear to look upon his obsidian sword. Sirisa wrapped it in banana leaves and tucked it in the base of a tree trunk. None of them had trained with a sword anyway.

Sirisa made no more digs at foreigners. Mainly because she did not speak anymore. She and Lillian ignored each other. Both of the girls withdrew further into themselves. Lillian could be seen spending hours tracing pictures in the soil with a stick, or staring up at the canopy with such a dreamy look that Will would shake her to make sure her mind was still with them. And sometimes, when she took a while to respond, he was certain she had floated away to another life.

Meanwhile, Sirisa did chores until she ran out, then she would train with her spear. Not that it was really training- none of them knew how to use a spear. She just twisted it and thwacked it against trees. She made moves up. Her palms became calloused and swollen with blisters.

On one occasion, she had sensed a presence beside her and turned to see Halt lunging at a tree trunk. When she paused, he shrugged to her.

"It's a good way to keep fit," he said. What he didn't tell her was that he'd felt weak to his bones since he'd been stabbed. He trained with her, practising, and each day his strength grew. The two of them became familiar with the weapons, although Halt never quit complaining that it was not as sufficient as his bow.

They had duels. At first, with Halt still recovering from his wound, Sirisa pressed her advantage, throwing in dirty moves that forced him to twist in ways that hurt his healing stomach. But as the days went by, he began to win more often until he was the victor of every match.

Inept though he was with a spear, Halt still had the advantage of a long life of battles. He had seen men fight with them before and knew how to judge an opponant. He replicated moves he had seen from pikemen and taught them to Sirisa.

Then she'd suddenly burst into tears when something reminded her of Ruch and they'd all leave her alone after that, exceot for Antil. He touched her shoulder and she put her arms around him and cried into his chest. He'd stroke her hair and she said she knew he'd done all he could for Ruch, that no one could have done better. Will didn't have the time or energy to wonder.

Ruch was the ghost around the camp. Will still couldn't cry for him and he was guilty for it. Guilty for letting them all down too. One evening, he confessed this to Halt, the only confident he had in the wild.

"Don't blame yourself," had been Halt's instant reply.

"But Halt," Will had said, "I didn't do anything to help! There must have been something I could have done. I should have gone with him, I should have been there. Maybe I would have seen it and been able to-to scare it off or something."

"There's no guarantee of that. If you have to blame someone, blame me." Halt had sighed. "I've been out of it. I should have reacted faster to the tribesman and been of more help."

"Halt!" Will always hated to hear his mentor put himself down like that. "You were injured. It's not your fault. I'm the one who touched the painting in the first place. If I hadn't fallen for it in the first place then-"

"We both fell for it," Halt said decisively. "If you have to blame someone, blame me."

"But it wasn't-"

"Then don't blame anyone at all," and that was the end of that.

While Sirisa and Halt trained, Antil joined Will on his daily explorations. Lillian was too frightened to be alone, she had taken to sticking close by Halt. Will couldn't blame her. Halt was a comforting presence. She daydreamed while they practised. Though she kept her own spear close at hand, she wouldn't practise with it.

Will showed Antil the landmarks he used to navigate. He gave the healer the tour of the jungle from the mud where the swamp had been to the rocks with obsidian. Antil wasn't hopeful that they'd find anything. He didn't say it, yet Will could tell because everytime the ranger mentioned how he hoped they'd find something, Antil responded with a dubious, "I see."

Will was the one who detected rustling in the bushes first. He laid a restraining hand on Antil's lower arm, drawing him back into the bushes.

"What is it?" Antil whispered. Will cringed.

"Shh," he urged. He'd been ambushed before and he'd done the ambushing. He'd snuck up on people, he'd had rangers sneak up on him, he'd witnessed others trying to sneak. From all this he'd developed a form of sixth sense. And it was this that told Will it wasn't a wild animal in the bushes.

He was proved correct seconds later. A man emerged from the trees. Not a man Will felt it was safe to communicate with. No, this was a tribesperson. Dark skinned, dark haired; tattoed with foreign markings. His eyes shone with the ferocity of a wolf.

Antil flinched. Will sensed he was about to run and tightened his hold on the arm. Antil resisted so Will cautiously moved closer until his lips brushed the shell of an ear.

"He'll see you if you move," he whispered. Antil swallowed and nodded.

The tribesperson moved with quiet footfalls. If Will hadn't been a ranger, he doubted he would have heard the approch. As he passed their position, he swept his gaze over the bushes. Antil was breathing rather loudly and Will feared it would give them away. He himself did not move an inch, not even to the temptation of ducking his head when the glowing eyes met his. His ranger cloak might be raggid and torn well above his knees, but he still had the deep cowl tugged over his head.

Gutteral, unintelligible noises burbled from the tribesman's slit of a mouth. He turned his head, eyeing their position from his peripheral vision. Then he lowered the point of his spear- which Will had by now noticed was made from obsidian- and stormed towards their position.

Antil squaked and pulled back. Will released his arm, flicking his own spear into a ready position. He slid back into the shadows, remaining hidden as Antil rushed past and the tribesperson charged after him.

When the flash of red tattoes passed him, Will arced the spear down. It cracked on the tribesman's head. He toppled to the ground. Will deftly aimed the point at him, just in case he regained consciousness sooner than expected.

"Antil, come back," Will called. "I've got him."

Antil continued to crash through the trees.

"Antil? Oh dammit." Will sprinted after him- he could hardly let the healer go blundering through the jungle on his own. If he'd been in fit condition he could have covered the ground in no time at all. As it was, slowly starving and growing thinner by the day, each step was difficult. However, Antil was in no better condition, and he had never been battle hardened to begin with, so Will caught him in no time.

He gripped Antil's shoulder. The healer jerked and Will grabbed his forearm, spinning him around. "Antil, it's just me!"

Antil blinked at him, his shoulders sagging. He glanced over the young ranger's shoulder and saw no tribesman hurtling towards him.

"I got him Antil," Will explained. "He's unconscious."

Antil's chest was heaving. He managed a vague smile. "Well done," he muttered, obviously terrified out of his wits and still recovering from that. Will patted his shoulder.

"Go on back to camp," he said. "Will you be alright getting there on your own?" He was suddenly concerned that he'd have to escort him back to the campsite.

"Why? Where are you going?" Antil asked.

Will grinned at him. "I'm going back to our tribesperson," he declared. "When he wakes, there's a good chance he'll head back to his people. I'll follow him at a distance."

Antil stared at him as if he'd lost his senses. "Why?"

"Don't you want to know where these people are living?" Will was surprised he even had to answer the question. "How many of them there are? What materials they have?"

Antil shrugged. "That has nothing to do with us. So no, not particularly."

"Of course it has something to do with us!" Will waved his hand, trying to emphasize the enormity of the importance of the tribespeople. "If they find us here they might attack us. We need to know what we're living beside. And we can learn off them, by observing their survival methods."

"I suppose," Antil muttered.

"Look, I showed you the landmarks. You won't get lost on your way back. It's not too far to camp from hear and anyway, you'll hear Sirisa and Halt practising when you get close," Will reassured him. "You'll be fine."

"And you?"

Will was thrown by the question. "Pardon?"

"Will you be 'fine'?"

He hadn't been expecting that. He wondered when the Oramine had switched from thinking him a bossy foreigner (as he was sure they had) to being concerned about his safety. His grin widened. "Course I'll be fine." And it was true. Because now, with the prospect of action, the dullness in him was receding and a spark of his old self flickered. The greens of the leaves brightened around him and he became aware of pleasant birdsong.

"I'll be fine," Will repeated. "You get back to camp and worry about the others."

Antil hesitated. At long last he nodded, a jerky movement. Will hurried back to the unconcious tribesman. He hoped Antil wouldn't run into any trouble. It didn't seem right to leave him alone but equally, he couldn't pass up this opportunity.

Will scuffed out their tracks before he crouched in the bushes. It took sometime for the tribesman to groan and wake. Survellence was not as exciting as Will later made it out to be- he spent a good ten minutes watching the man stretch his limbs and rub the bump on his head, looking around.

He spent a good half hour after that going in circles as the tribesman searched for who had dared to harm him. He spent some time scurtionising the ground, trying to fathom why no tracks had been left behind. He knocked his own head with a fist, looking for all the world like someone who thought he might be going crazy.

The tribesperson wandered in what seemed to be an aimless manner around the jungle. He paused at fruit trees to gauge himself then carried on. Will was starting to get impatient.

Then a hand tapped his shoulder and Will flinched. He turned around and Halt met his gaze. The older ranger had quite the knack of appearing smug without even a trace of a smile.

"What are you doing?" Will hissed.

Halt raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "At the moment, thinking about how my former apprentice just jumped two feet in the air."

Will set his teeth. "You're supposed to be resting," he frowned, "and it wasn't two feet!"

"Hush," Halt instructed. "Don't give us away."

"Halt!"

"Will."

"You're still recovering," Will insisted.

"Are you a healer?"

"What?" Will struggled to keep up with the sudden question. "No," he conceded.

"Is Antil a healer?"

"Well, yes."

Halt nodded, satisfied. "Antil said I could come. He's a healer, you're not, he knows best."

Will shot his mentor a suspicious look. "Did he say you could come with or without your threats?"

"Look, he's moving," Halt observed. He glided from cover as the tribesperson headed off. The ranger glanced over his shoulder at his former apprentice. "Hurry up," he said curtly.

So with a drop of reluctance, Will allowed his mentor to accompany him as they trailed behind the tribesperson. 'Allowed' was not quite the right term, Will thought to himself later, for there was nothing anyone could say to change Halt's mind when he decided he would do something.

In any event, he was happy for the supportive figure beside him when, after an afternoon of chasing a randomely wandering tribesperson, they finally found themselves peering past the dark leaves to dozens of platforms rigged in the trees, with ropes hanging down that the tribespeople swarmed up with ease.

Halt touched his stomach. Will pulled his hood further over his head. They both watched.

**Sorry for any mistakes, it's the middle of the night and my eyes are starting to droop...**


	17. Chapter 17

**Only one review for the last chapter? Aw, what happened? Is it that you're bored of the story or just couldn't be bothered reviewing? Or was the last chapter not worthy of a review? Or did you not have time to read it? Or did you just not _want_ to read it? Come on, let me know- I promise I won't hold it against you. :) **

**Thanks to Wolfwind97 for reviewing the last chapter :D**

**Chapter 17**

It was almost like a replica of the Oramine city they'd been in. The houses were in the trees- except while the Oramine had tidy huts, these tribespeople had platforms with woven mats of twigs and leaves rigged above as a roof. Cords of rope hung down from the platforms. The tribespeople had the same skill of climbing as the Oramine; they swarmed up the ropes without effort. Maybe they were Oramine once upon a time. But it was difficult to imagine them out of their rags, with their hair brushed and beards groomed.

Will and Halt melded into the trees, observing. The tribespeople had much to be desired in the way of organisation. They brought in fruit and dumped it in a pile; meat they chucked in the ashes of a fire. Then when one was hungry, they'd just go and help themselves. They gauged themselves, juice running down their chins, tearing hunks of meat with their teeth. It cause many a fight; another would come over and start throwing punches to get the food.

The women strolled around with furs around their waists and their chests bare. They dozed on rocks and picked at the food- no one fought them for it. Their offspring tackled each other, playfighting like tiger cubs, chasing butterflies. Men hunted and gathered and fought. There was a lot of fighting for the food and for the women too. When it came to the women, there was no punches or kicks. They went straight to their spears. The loser lay on the ground as he slowly died of bloodloss and the victor took the woman to his platform.

They were brutal. Perhaps they had to be, living their whole lives in the forest. They were also silent. It was something that disturbed Will. Fist against skin, grunts of pain, the occassionale cackle of confusion or laughter; all these things were heard clearly because the rest of them were so quiet. When they weren't swept away with adreneline they were like wildcats.

The whole tribe housed about fifty people, Will estimated. He saw fifteen children under the age of thirteen and five women. The rest were men.

He felt Halt moving beside him. Slow, deliberate movements of course as his mentor slipped backwards to a less vulnerable spot. Will followed him, and before long, Halt deemed it safe to whisper.

In Will's ear he breathed, "they seem to be doing rather well here."

"Better than us," Will agreed ruefully. "Where do you think they got all that rope from?"

Halt shrugged. "Maybe they know how to make it. Or maybe they've stolen it from somewhere. There could be a hamlet in the jungle somewhere- there's plenty of food and materials around if you know how to use them that could be an advantage for a small community."

Will brightened. "A hamlet? Do you think so?" Even as he said it, the tribespeople tickled the back of his mind. The jungle itsself- the sloping trees, and wild birdsong, and never ending dangers, and the way the shadows under the canopy draped around you until you struggled to remember what life in civilised society was like. "You don't think," Will mentioned, "that the tribespeople started off as a hamlet?"

"They could well have done," Halt agreed, the forest reflected in his dark eyes. "I can imagine how they would go mad in a place like this."

Will could feel green vines closing in on him. He swallowed, a vivid image of himself appearing in his mind. Himself, with bones in his curls, darkened skin in a tattered loin cloth. "They've turned into the jungle," he said, horrified. "They've long forgotten humanity. They're wild animals."

"And we have to deal with them like wild animals," Halt said.

"So what do we do?" Will asked. A weight was lifted off his shoulders at the question. He wasn't the sole leader, the one responsible. Halt was well again. Halt wasn't going to die.

Suddenly, a wall of emotion collapsed on him. He couldn't even recognise it, it was everything. Despair at Ruch's death, relief at Halt's survival, a jolt of deja vu from when he was an apprentice and just did as Halt said and oddest of all, nerves about what Alyss would say when he got home to propose to her.

Will's knees shook and he would have sunk to the ground if Halt hadn't stepped forward to hold his elbows. The grip wasn't as strong as it had once been, but it was enough and Will leaned into his mentor.

"I think it's hardly fair that the tribespeople have so many resources while we have next to nothing," Halt said. Will had his chin on Halt's shoulder and an awkward hand was patting his back. "Don't you think?" Halt prompted.

Will pulled back, steadying himself. "I think that is very unfair," he said slowly.

"They have a lot of rope," Halt supplied. "They wouldn't miss some of it."

"Rope would be useful," Will said, thinking of snares, a more secure shelter, and perhaps even a raft over the river. "How would we go about getting it?"

Halt had his answer prepared. He had been considering courses of action as they'd spied on the camp. "I'll distract them, you climb to the top of the rope and cut it off."

Will frowned. "How do I get down when I've cut the rope?"

"Find another way down. You're a good climber, you'll manage."

They crept back to the tribespeople. Will followed in his mentor's footsteps. He hesitated then laid a cautious hand on Halt's shoulder.

"Halt," he whispered. The older ranger turned around, one eyebrow raised in inquiry. "Maybe I should distract them."

Halt frowned. "You're younger and nimbler than me. You'd be able to climb undetected better than I could."

"Yes but," Will began awkwardly, "you've already..I mean, you've just...I just mean to say that..."

Halt brushed the hand off his shoulder. "I'm ready for them this time," he said, guessing the reason behind Will's jumbled sentence. "Don't worry about me. I've faced far more dangerous things than a crazy man who can't remember how to talk."

"But-"

"Stop fussing," Halt said, a harsher note to his voice. He continued to the tribe, Will trailing nervously behind him. The younger ranger left his spear behind. If he was to climb, it would be of little use and mild hindrance.

"Don't look for me," Halt reminded in an almost inaudible volume as the tribespeople came into view. "Focus on getting the rope." It was the first time Will had ever been so serious about stealing such a common thing as rope, but the tool could give them their escape. A raft, he told himself. They could make a raft and sail over the river.

Yet an escape would be no victory if Halt got himself killed. Will bunched his fist in Halt's shirt, refusing to let go. He was unable to articulate his fears. When Halt shot him a look, he just met his mentor's eyes, anxious.

Halt must have seen right through him. He placed one hand over Will's and gently removed it from his shirt. "I know what I'm doing," he said. "I have my cloak. I'll disappear." His uniform was intact, unlike Will's shabby, frayed cloak hanging from his shoulders to his waist.

With some reluctance, Will nodded. He turned his attention (most of it anyway, there was a part of him still concerned about Halt and wishing he could foresee what was about to happen) to the platforms. He picked one that had no one on it and moved to be near. He couldn't see Halt anymore, but a few moments later he heard a thunderous voice say, "I've seen grannies who can protect their home better than this!" In a flurry of movement, the tribespeople were drawn to that point.

Will raced into the open. He did not move cautiously, nor did he look around to meticulously assess whether anyone was looking his way. He trusted the confusion to hide him and gripped the rope with both hands. As a seasoned campaigner, he didn't rush up and risk falling. Rather, he took his time to inch up the rope and if he happened to reach the top quickly, that was because he was a skilled climber and his comfort speed was faster than that of most.

His boots hit the wood of the platform without a noise. He released the rope. Will had his obsidian dagger at his belt and he drew it now. It made him feel remorseful to use it because he remembered crafting it while Ruch made his sword and comparing the advantages and disadvantages with the old Oramine. He forced himself back to the present. Below him, the tribespeople were starting to realise there was only one man out there and return to their daily activities.

Will sliced the rope. He knew he could waste no time. He began to coil it up so he could carry it. As he did, his eyes were darting around everywhere. The tribespeople made no noise, he knew. He feared they would stalk him and he wouldn't notice.

He did notice. Of course he noticed- he was a ranger. A tribesman was on the platform beside his, one that was slightly higher than Will's. Just as the ranger had bundled up the rope, the tribesperson leapt from his platform to Will's.

Like all of them, he had a spear. Will circled backwards, eyeing up the obsidian point and thinking how wrong it looked in the hands of an enemy. His heel balanced on the edge of the platform. It took him by surprise, he hadn't realised he'd gotten so close to the edge, and he nearly fell. He windmilled his arms, the rope uncoiling, as he tried desperately to regain his balance. The tribesperson lunged with his spear. He couldn't balance enough to dodge without falling. Instead, Will pushed back with his feet, leaping from the edge as he fell to make sure he covered some distance. The rope flew out before him. He kept a tight hold of it in one hand. With the other, he managed to trap a tree branch under his arm. Now he was one tree over from the tribesman, who blinked down at him. He was also just under the platform in this tree.

Will hadn't remained unnoticed now. Two tribesmen started up the tree after him. Another one grabbed the end of the rope that now trailed on the ground. They tugged at it. Will set his teeth, refusing to let go. He wasn't about to go through all this drama and get no payoff.

He swung onto the branch so he crouched on it. Bracing against the trunk, he tried to pull the rope from the other's grip. No luck there. The tribesmen swarming up the tree were just reaching his position. Will slashed at them with his dagger, but their spears had a longer reach. They were practised at climbing with them and Will now wished he too had brought his spear with him. He had to lean right back to avoid the sharp point.

The tribesperson pulling on the rope was about to pull him right from the tree. The others were about to spear him through. Will dropped to the next branch down, reaching up to slash the leg of the nearest tribesperson. Blood dripped down the ankle. The tribesperson slid down the trunk so he had a good space to stab with the spear. Will dropped another branch down. The other climbed onto the branch above, thrusting the spear down. Will ducked- it touched his hair.

Swiftly, because he knew he had to start getting aggressive if he was to escape alive, he switched hands so he held the knife and the rope in the same hand and grabbed the handle of the spear just before the obsidian point. He pushed it up, knocking that tribesperson out of the tree and acquiring a more sufficient weapon than the knife. He let the wood slide through his fingers until he held the blunt end. A spear points flashed at him. He pressed against the trunk to dodge it. Then he stabbed at the tribesperson, the spear sticking right through his thigh. Will didn't have enough purchase in the tree to pull it back; he released the handle as the tribesman with the spear in his thigh toppled from the tree.

Will knew he had to keep the momentum. He was pulling against the rope and a tribesman pulled back, actually balancing him somewhat. If the tribesperson was to suddenly stop pulling, he'd fall backwards out of the tree.

Halt was yelling again, he heard. Maybe his mentor had noticed his troubles and was trying to draw their attention away. The one on the rope paused to glance around but wouldn't let go. The one that had fallen from the tree had hit his head on the ground and the other had his hands around his injured thigh.

"Let go dammit," Will muttered. The other tribespeople were now distracted with Halt, it was only the one with the rope that still bothered with him. He could see no way of successfully getting the rope. So he dropped it. The tribesperson staggered back. It gave Will a few seconds, precious seconds, to scurry up the trunk before he was being pursued.

There was another rope on this tree and he leapt onto it. The tribesperson wasn't far behind him. He leapt onto the platform and spun on his heel, slicing the rope with the tribesperson still on it so that they fell to the ground. He heard the crack of a body. Noises like that, they didn't sink in until much later when the adreniline had died down.

On this platform, there was a little statue, about the size of Will's hand. It was made of wood, with flat squares that twisted around each other like a spiral staircase. In the centre of it was a waxy, melted down candle. He had a feeling that he'd seen a candle like that before and tucked it away in his jacket without thinking about it. Then he shot down the tree and gathered up the rope. He disappeared into the forest.

They had arranged a meeting place where Will had left his spear. He retrieved it now and waited for Halt. His boots scuffed the earth as he paced back and forth, fearful that he would wait all night and still not hear from his mentor.

However, it wasn't long until Halt arrived back unharmed. Will grinned and held up the rope, promptly forgetting about the moments of terror now that they had both escaped unscathed with their prize.

"What'll the others say when they see this?" Will wondered aloud as the walked back to the camp.

What they did say was not quite what he was expecting.

"What were you thinking?" Lillian exclaimed. "It's almost dark. There could be tigers or bears or wolves out here that'll eat us when you're gone."

"Sorry, sorry," Will said. "We got rope!" He grinned at the, waiting for them to say 'oh what a useful tool!' None of them had much enthusiasm.

"What are we going to use it for?" Sirisa asked doubtfull. She was curled up against Antil. His arm was around her, sharing his warmth.

"We can buid a raft," Will said. "We'll tie bits of wood together and sail over the river back to Oramin."

Sirisa eyed him with absolute horror. "We can't!" she argued. "Don't you remember the river monster?"

"We won't be in the water," Halt assured her, settling down under the shelter. "We'll be over it."

"What if we capsize?" Sirisa pressed.

"We won't capsize," Will said. He tried to sound sure of himself. He didn't think he succeeded.

"But if we do? That fish will bite into us, lacerate our skin, the water will turn red with our _blood_," Sirisa described in lurid detail. Lillian squeaked and Sirisa scoffed at her- even though she herself was too frightened to go near the water.

"We can't give up," Will said. "We have to try. Don't you want to be reunited with your families?"

"I have no family," Sirisa spat.

Will bit his tongue, searching for something to say.

"Family or no family, you don't want to spend the rest of your life in the wild," Halt said evenly.

Sirisa dropped her gaze.

Lillian hesitated. "Maybe, if you did a test run first to show us it's safe, maybe then it would be alright?"

Will nodded. "Right, Halt and I will do that. Antil? What do you say? Don't you want to see your wife again?"

Sirisa cut in before he could answer. "It's not worth the risk," she snapped. But Antil was nodding. She shifted away from him, bristling. "It's not worth it, Antil!" she said.

"Any fate the water will bring us is no worse than that of the jungle," he said. "I say we do it."

Will grinned. "That's four against one. Sorry Sirisa. We're going rafting."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**Thank you everyone for all your reviews. Special mention to Bralt for being the 100th reviewer. Hypothetical confetti is raining down on you. **

Sirisa stormed through the trees. Her hair was in disarray and she smoothed it restlessly. The frown was not unusual. Neither was the moisture on her lashes; they'd all become used to her sporadic outbursts.

Will was breaking off branches for the raft. Halt was positioning them and beginning to tie them in place with the rope. He'd gotten the job without argument; they all assumed he'd have the best idea of how to make it. Lillian picked the shell off a macadamia and watched them.

They all paused in what they were doing when Sirisa thundered past the little work station. She snatched a handful of macadamia's from Lillian, hurled them to the ground and stomped on them. They crunched and she gathered them up, shoving them in her mouth with a glittering fury. Her movements were jerky and sudden, as if at any moment she'd corrupt into a fit of kicking trees and spitting at the ground.

"I was eating those," Lillian protested. "Oh you are so rude!"

Sirisa spat something in Oramine. She was still crunching nuts and she sprayed a few crumbs. They could see the saliva covered mash between her teeth. Her hands flicked at her sides and darted up to tidy her hair, though she only succeeded in making it worse.

Lillian huffed and gathered the remaining nuts to her chest. "Will, Halt, tell her she can't have them," she complained, much as a child might.

"Who found the damn things?" Sirisa challenged. She swallowed her mouthfull and tried to grab another. Lillian twisted them away.

"Jujoan," they both screeched at the same time. Somewhere along the way, the meaning of the word had been lost and they just used it because it offended the other.

"Good grief," Halt muttered under his breath. "They're worse than Alyss and Evanlyn used to be."

Will suppressed a fond smile at the mention of the girls. Memories like that were what encouraged him to keep trying to escape. Now, with the raft taking shape under his hands, they were closer than ever to home. Araluen was right in front of him. The proximity made him more forgiving towards the girls.

Antil emerged from the trees. His shoulders sagged when he saw Sirisa, something akin to a silent apology crossing his features. She snapped in Oramine. Will couldn't understand the word. He still picked up that it wasn't complimentary.

A red hue spread over Antil's cheeks. He joined Will in snapping off branches. The splitting cracks sliced through the air.

"What happened?" Halt asked. Both Sirisa and Antil avoided answering; the woman with a huff and the healer with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"Do you want to help build the raft?" Will asked, addressing Sirisa. They didn't really need the help but it might do her good to keep herself busy.

"I'm not helping," she snarled. "Do it yourself."

"Then you can check the snares," Halt said evenly. She swung to him, bristling. Her whole body stiffened at the undertone of authority, yet there were very few people who would stand up to Halt when he had that gleam in his eye and Sirisa was not one of them. With her foul temper lapping around her, she headed out to check the snares.

The group brightened at her absence. Lillian moved over to where Halt was tying the branches in place and watched him for a while.

"Are you sure it will float and not just fall apart?" she asked.

Halt nodded. "It may not look sturdy, but it'll do the trick."

"Halt's good at tying knots," Will added further reassurance. "He has crafty fingers." He grinned, a chuckle escaping him. "That's why 'raft' is in 'craft'."

Lillian and Antil offered polite giggles. Halt didn't bother.

When they took a break from their project, Will sidled up to Lillian. He'd been prompted by Halt to do so, as he had taken the role of leader when Halt had been incapacitated and the older ranger wasn't about to usurp him.

"Look," he began. "You're a courier."

Lillian may have had a hint of where this was going because she stiffened, stilling like a river in the winter up north.

"Couriers are diplomats," Will continued. "And diplomats know how to get along with people. I'm sure if you try you can become friends with Sirisa. Just think of it as a training exercise."

"I've finished my training," Lillian said with no small amount of mortification at being lectured. Not that lecturing was Will's intent by any means; he was trying to help.

"I know, I know," Will soothed. "You're a brilliant courier," although not in the same league as Alyss, he thought. From now on, he would be appreciating his girlfriend's skill much more than he had in the past.

Lillian dropped her gaze to the ground. "No I'm not," she sighed. "I just memorise lines and facts. I have no real skill when it comes to people. It's funny, I'm highly regarded as one of the brightest new graduates in Caraway, but I can't do anything right on a real mission."

"But didn't you go on missions when you were training?" Will inquired, frowning.

"Yes. With my mentor. She always dealt with issues when they got tough and I learnt from her. At least, I pretended to learn. I may not have been doing as much learning as I'd thought."

Will put an arm around her shoulders. She was shaking and he flashed an encouraging smile. "You handled things fine when we first landed at Oramin."

"That was different. It was," she had to search for the words, "just like in the books. Orthodox."

"Well then," Will said and didn't finish the sentence because he just didn't know what to say next. He wasn't like Halt; the right words to make everyone feel better didn't just come to his tongue. "Just try to get along with her," he said after a pause.

"Alright. I'll try," Lillian conceded.

…..

Sirisa knelt under the shade of a tree. She picked up the parcel wrapped in banana leaves, turning it over in her hands. It felt cold. It shouldn't have felt cold, she thought, because it should have been warmed by Ruch's palm but nothing ever would be again.

She came close to hurling it across the clearing. She couldn't do it. It had been his pride and joy in his last days. Sirisa was sure, if he had returned to Oramin, he would have hung it on his wall and showed it off to everyone he could.

Carefully, she peeled off the leaves. The sheen of black obsidian seemed to her lustless. It was jagged and imperfect. And it _hurt_ to grip it in her hand. It was so very wrong. Only one calloused hand was supposed to touch that handle. Still, Sirisa didn't think he would have wanted it to go to waste.

She gave it a few experimental swings. It was unfamiliar in her hand, not like her spear had become. Yet she couldn't put it down. She didn't want one of the others getting to it first. The sword was hers and only hers; Ruch would have wanted her to have it.

"Isn't that Ruch's sword?" Lillian stood uncertainly at the edge of the camp.

Sirisa jumped. "So what if it is?" she challenged. It was unusual for the blonde girl to speak to her, usually Lillian sat in sullen silence when none of the others were around. For none of them were around; Will and Halt were working on the raft and Antil- well, she didn't want to think about Antil.

"No I- I think he'd have wanted you to have it," Lillian said. She even attempted a tiny smile.

Sirisa snorted. "No doubt he would have," she said scornfully, ignoring a persistant voice inside of her that worried she was no more than a petty theif.

They kept a wary distance between them, much like two cats eying each other across the garden.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Lillian murmured. "I know he was special to you. It- I tried. I mean, I never wanted for- I liked Ruch I-"

"You were there," Sirisa said in a low voice. "Why did it have to be you with him?"

Lillian blinked, her face burning, insistant tears blurring her vision.

"If it had been one of the others, it would have been different," Sirisa stated bluntly. She glanced over at Lillian's distraught features, the kind of delicate features that should be drinking tea and reading rather than traipsing around the wild.

"There's no guarantee of that," Lillian choked out. Her fists trembled at her sides, the responsibity a blanket wrapped too tightly around her so that she couldn't breath.

"No," Sirisa agreed. "No gurantee. Besides, no one expects an ignorant foreigner jujoan like you to know what to do."

Lillian flinched. "It was your fault we were in this situation in the first place!" she accused.

"Oh quiet you," Sirisa snapped right back at her. "Don't you get it? I forgive you. You're a useless foreigner who can't cope and I forgive you for not knowing what to do."

"E-eh?"

"Because," Sirisa continued, "I suppose you tried. Anyway, Ruch wouldn't want his memory to be tarnished with bickering."

"Uh?"

"You aren't quick witted, are you?" Sirisa spat with her usual venom. She swished the sword around, deciding she could get used to it.

It was dumb luck what happened next. They weren't rangers; they wouldn't have heard anything. But Lillian was alarmed when Sirisa started swinging the sword around. She jumped and jerked back from the razer edge. Sirisa laughed disdainfully at her; Lillian glanced away in embarrassment and it was this movement that brought her eye to eye with the tribesperson in the bushes.

Lillian blinked. She processed what she saw. It took a moment.

Then she let out an ear splitting scream. "Sirisa!" she screeched. "Sirisa, Sirisa!" The Oramin reached for her, grabbing her arm.

"What is it?" she asked urgently. The tribesperson had already disappeared, melting away into the bushes.

"T-there was a face. A person. Dark skinned with red tattoes," Lillian stammered. "He was looking at me; at us."

Sirisa's grip tightened on her arm. They exchanged a look of muted terror.

"I don't see him," Sirisa muttered.

"He's gone now," Lillian told her.

"Why would he just leave?" Sirisa frowned.

"I don't know," Lillian warbled. "We should find Will and Halt." She made to move but Sirisa held her back.

"Maybe he was a scout," she suggested. "He might be on his way back to their campsite to tell all of them we're here."

"Then we should definitely tell Will." Lillian tried to pull her arm free. Sirisa shook her head.

"We might not have time. By the time we get to them, the tribespeople could be marching towards us. I bet they move fast in the forest."

"Well, what would you have us do?" Lillian squeaked. "I hope you aren't going to start like Antil. All 'we have no hope'."

"Of course not," Sirisa snapped. "I think we should follow the scout and stop him before he reaches his people." The tip of the obsidian sword sliced through the air. Her eyes were alight with a kind of madness.

"No. No no no no no!" Lillian insisted.

"Oh think about it," Sirisa said, warming to her idea. "If we run all the way to where they're building the raft and the tribesperson runs and tells his tribe, and they all send out a party to kill us, then we won't know where that party is and they'll be hunting us. We won't be able to return to camp because they know where that is and could be watching us."

"You are just like Antil!" Lillian cried.

"But," Sirisa continued, drawing out the word. "If we follow him now, we can stop him before he tells the others and avoid ourselves the trouble. So let's go, jujoan!" She charged off into the forest, her spear in one hand, Ruch's sword in the other, and a glitter of madness in the air around her. Lillian jogged after her.

"Stop Sirisa," she said. "You'll be killed."

"Oh, who cares," Sirisa tossed over her shoulder. "This place is hardly worth living in."

"But we're about to go home when the raft is finished," Lillian tried.

"Home? I don't have a home. Or a family. I don't think I exist at all," Sirisa laughed, the most bizarre giggle Lillian had ever heard and ever would hear in her life. "I'm just an illusion created by the trees and I'll fade into the soil as if I was never here. Don't tell me it's not true," she added when she heard a breath behind her. "We both know it is. Just like Ruch had vanished forever."

She broke down and started crying. Her sobs echoed between the rough bark of trees. She didn't slow her step, nor bothered to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Lillian faltered, wavering between going back.

Sirisa was wrong, Lillian thought to herself. Ruch hadn't vanished. He was still there in the obsidian sword and he was still there in the rich earthy air. If not for him, she would have turned back. But his presence unnerved her, the suffocating blame that she had not taken the right actions to save his life- so how could she abandon Sirisa now?

The tribesman must have heard them snivelling from a mile away. They didn't catch even a glimpse of him until they spotted two more with him. The girls hid in the shadows and peered around the thick trunk of a tree. At least, Sirisa did, Lillian kept her face pressed against the calloused bark and wished she was someplace else.

The tribespeople were grunting. One of them waved and pointed in the general direction of the camp. That one must have been the scout, although Sirisa hadn't seen him and Lillian refused to look.

One of the tribesmen spotted them. His back stiffened and he readied his spear. Sirisa touched the courier's shoulder, drawing her back from the trunk.

"Maybe you were right," she admitted. "We should have told the rangers. Go now, you go tell them."

Lillian's gaze slid past her to where the tribesmen were starting to approach around the tree. Her hands fluttered at her sides. Her knees buckled; she couldn't find the strength to run, nor stand and she sank to the ground.

"Get up, jujoan," Sirisa snapped, prodding her lightly with the spear. "Get up; I'll hold them off."

Lillian couldn't get up. She crawled out of the way, into what might have once been a riverbed; now moss and rocks. She blocked her ears with her fingers. It wasn't enough to shut out the screams and grunts of pain and the sound of obsidian biting flesh. She squeezed her eyes shut. It did nothing to block out the images of blood and mangled bodies in her head. She drew her knees to her chin and that gave her no comfort either.

It didn't take long for a deadly silence to sweep over the forest. Lillian heard a shuddering groan, a few birds and nothing else. She dared to open her eyes and regretted it. The courier rolled onto her front and vomited. Then she staggered to her feet and ran on trembling legs, yelling 'Will! Will! Will!'

It all happened in a haze. She registered warm hands on her shoulders and voices asking her what had happened. She hadn't been able to speak, just waved her hand and garbled a few disjointed sounds.

Will's arm was around her and her face was on his shoulder. She wouldn't look. She refused to look. He let her go to check the pulse. Halt gathered up the obsidian sword and the two spears- Lillian had left hers at the scene. He also took the spears from the three tribesmen. They dragged her body back to the camp. Again, the forest was lit up with a funeral pyre. Again, the obsidian blade was wrapped in leaves and left untouched.

Lillian wouldn't eat anything even though her stomach growled. She stayed away from the fire because it didn't seem right to be warming her hands over it in the circumstances. Vaguelly, she registered Will and Halt talking.

"So I should do nothing?" Will was saying.

"The tribespeople are as much a part of the wild as the tigers and the birds," Halt replied. "You didn't want to kill all of the snakes in the jungle after what happened to Ruch. In any event, revenge is a bad motive."

"But they killed our ally!" Will argued. "I can't sit around and let that happen without fighting back."

"Will," Halt said. "You're letting the wild draw you in." That was how it worked;; it wrapped tendrils around you when you were close to escape, trying to give you a reason to stay, making you forget that you could walk away.

It laughed. All around them, the jungle throbbed with laughter. They were all sure of it. It was alive; they were standing in the belly of a dragon and it wanted to digest them.

That evening, Lillian didn't bother about blisters or cuts and helped them to finish the raft. There was no sense of victory when it was finished. Only a weary hope: please let this take us across the river and out of the wild.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**Another update just because the end is so close.**

Halt and Will dragged the raft to the waters edge. The current spat froth when it hit rocks, droplets of fresh water spraying their cloths. Further out, the river's temper eased, though the lines of a rapid current streaked the blue. Worse than that for Antil, as the sole remaining Oramine in the party, was the depth of his fear for the monster fish that roamed these waters. Will had his own nerves about the matter; he remembered encountering it early on and it's needle teeth. It had snatched him from the bank and dragged him under. He didn't care to think what it could do to him if they capsized.

They had their tiger pelts and weapons bundled up at the bank. They were all too conscious that the tribespeople would find their own kind dead, and after Will and Halt's clumsy expedition for the rope, they knew there were foreigners out there. They'd be looking around for them. The first places they'd check would be the ones the dead scouts had been searching. Of course, Will didn't know if they spoke a language intelligent enough to have appointed areas for their scouts but Halt was adamant that they had to assume the worst.

Lillian's head swivelled around as if she expected muderers to leap from the trees at any moment. Will assured her if there was anyone there he'd have noticed them, or at least Halt would have. It didn't ease her anxiety.

Halt pushed the raft onto the current. It bobbed as the river tried to snatch it away. He held it in place, a sheen of water sloshing over the logs.

Antil and Lillian leaned on the bundled up tiger fur. They had two spears each. Will and Halt had one between them and the others were packed up with the tiger fur. The rangers needed their hands free to paddle, though the sole spear gave them security. Will tucked it under his arm as he carefully crawled onto the raft.

He knelt on it and it dipped under his weight, water soaking his knees and calves. Lillian handed him his paddle. He balanced his spear across his lap and accepted it from her. Will could feel the river bucking underneath him, he knew he'd need the strength of both his arms on the paddle to avoid being swept away by the current.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Lillian questioned miserably.

"It'll be fine," Will grinned at her. "We'll just give it a test run; then we'll come back for you."

Neither Lillian nor Antil were overly enthusiastic about it. It wasn't just concern for the rangers; they didn't want to be alone on the bank if the tribespeople found them and they feared if anything happened to Halt and Will they wouldn't last long on their own. It was only now that it struck them how much they'd been relying on the rangers.

"Antil, hold it while I get on," Halt instructed. The healer did as he was bid, gripping the edge of the raft. He winced as his hands were submerged in water, tensing as he waited to see if a giant fish would drag him under.

The raft dipped further as Halt clamboured aboard, but it didn't sink. The older ranger positioned his paddle and Will did the same.

"We'll head for the opoosite shore. If we're still afloat halfway across the river, we'll come back for you," Halt said. They'd agreed on this earlier. After all, it would be galling to get all the way over and then have to turn back. So they'd go half of the way and then assume they could manage the rest, albeit with more weight.

"Ready?" Halt asked.

Will swallowed, touching his paddle to the surface of the water- although really it was no more than a stick. Ripples trailed around it. He felt like he was at the start of a race, not knowing where he'd be in the next few seconds. Images flashed around his mind of how this could all go horribly, terribly wrong.

"Ready," he said, his voice husky.

"Alright, you can let go Antil," Halt said. He managed to sound as calm as always and Will had to marvel at that skill. Then they were hurtling sideways from the current, being splashed and spun around. He thrust his paddle into the water, heaving with all his might. Halt did the same and they inched forward.

They were travelling down river faster than they were getting across it. The raft whirled around. Halt yelled out instructions and the shoved they paddled on the same side to try and get it under control. Will was dizzy and he'd lost all sense of co-ordination. He couldn't figure out which way was forward anymore. He just followed Halt's directions.

Lillian and Antil ran along the bank after them, tiger fur knotted around their necks and streaming behind them like cloaks because they weren't about to leave them behind. Will heard them calling his name, and Halt's name too. He caught a glimpse of orange, and thought some striped tiger was flying through the trees. It took him a moment to register that it was his companions.

"Halt!" he yelled and didn't know what to say after that. He wanted comfort, or direction: do this and everything would be alright. Will had a moment of deja vu from when he'd been on the skandian ship with Evanlyn. He felt like an apprentice out of his depth again.

They struggled to the deeper parts. Though it had looked calmer, this was deceit. The current snatched them away. They were soaked through right up to their waists. To make it even more unpleasant, Halt's seasickness got the better of him and Will heard an awful retching noise and saw lumpy vomit mixing with the water.

He remembered when they'd been taken across to the wild. They'd been in a sturdy boat with muscled guards powering them over the water; and even they had strained. Will had to kick himself. How could he have ever thought that two men could handle the row on their own, without a proper boat, without proper paddles and slowly withering away as they were? His desperation to escape must have been getting the better of him.

Once maybe, it would have been acheivable, when they were strong and capable. Will didn't feel like a ranger anymore. The strength leaked from the skin that stretched taunt over his bones. Each stroke of the oar grew sloppier and clumsier.

Then the water was all around him and he was sinking, down, down and sideways too, along with the current. It seemed strangely peaceful, even though he still drifted with the current. Will's mind caught up to him. They had capsized; he wasn't sure how, probably they had leaned too far one way and tipped over the edge. He hoped giant fish weren't attracted to vomit.

Will forced his eyes open. He could see nothing but dark bluey green and a slither of weed uplodged from its roots and drifting by. Above him, the sun filtered through the top of the water. He stretched his arms towards it, propelling himself upwards.

A shape darted above him, momentarily blocking the light and leaving everything in darkness. It was the shadow of a fish, a big fish, bigger than the one that had bitten Will's hand. The young ranger still had his paddle clenched in his fist, even though he'd lost his spear, and he tried to swing it at the shape to frighten it away. That did no good; in the water his movements were slowed and had no force behind them.

His lungs strained for air. He clawed his way upwards, not bothering to fight against the current. If it carried him miles away, that was fine as long as he could get a breath. Something scaly brushed against his leg and he flinched, a shudder jolting up his body.

His fingertips broke into air. He doubled his effort and managed to snatch a breath before he was hurtling underwater again. Will could only pray his mentor was alright. There wasn't much he could do to help.

He fought his way to the surface again and took a raggid breath. Water crept into his mouth and he choked and coughed. It was as good as he could do; he dived down low, hoping the current wasn't as strong near the bottom. It still tugged him along, but he swam towards the bank even as he was being dragged and it was a bit calmer away from the surface.

When his lungs burned for more air, he focused his energy on getting another breath. Then he dived down again. A sharp pain stung his leg. He twisted around and realised he'd grazed it on a rock. That was good in that the river was shallower here; he must be nearing the bank. It was bad that there would be all sorts of carnivorous fish that would smell the blood.

At least, that might draw them away from Halt if his mentor was in trouble. Will gripped a rock, battling against the current. He dragged himself over the rocks, his paddle still in one hand. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes stinging from the water. A shape hurtled towards him and he pushed the paddle at it. It connected with something that must have bitten the make shift oar because it was torn from Will's grasp.

He tugged himself along on the rocks, faster now in his hurry to get away. His hands thumped against a larger rock and he followed it upwards until he was free of the water. But not the current; he had to seize hold of a handful of grass to stop himself from being hurtled further down the river.

The grass ripped from the bank and Will's eyes widened in panic. He scrabbled for a hold, managing to grab another fistful as he went whizzing past the bank. Without pause, he threw his arms over the edge of the steep bank and hauled himself up. It was such a relief when his legs thumped the ground.

Will lay still, panting. His limbs were rubber. He gagged up water, rolling onto his front to spit and hurl and toss up the river. His toes curled in his boots; his clothes stuck to his skin. He shivered and tried to push himself up, but his arms gave out and he collapsed.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there. It was the fear that Halt hadn't yet found the shore that prompted him to drag himself to a sitting position and survey his surroundings.

There was no familiar land on the other side of the river, just a dark shape of trees. Will was sick of trees. There was a moss covered one not far from where he was sitting that bothered him. It had so many sturdy looking branches it might have liked to help him out of the water. But no, like all of it's kind, it decided to cruelly sit back and watch.

Will shook his head, knocking water out of his ears. He thought he might be going insane.

He stripped off his clothes and hung them over his shoulder. It would be colder walking around in wet clothes than it would be if he was naked. He trudged along the bank, his bare feet padding on the dewy grass.

As he walked, he scanned the river for any sign of Halt. It was hard to imagine the monsters under the rippling surface, hidden just from sight and untouchable, even if he had seen shadows of them and felt them. On land, they seemed unreal.

His legs became more steady as he got fresh air in his lungs. He began to jog, still alert for any sign of his mentor. Will was surprised at how far the current had taken him. At any moment he expected to see a familiar landmark but there were none for a good fifteen minutes of jogging.

Then he spotted a soggy person heaving himself out of the river.

"Halt!" Will cried, hurrying over. He gripped his mentors sopping elbows and pulled him onto the bank. Halt coughed and spluttered. Will was quite alarmed- had he looked so pitiful when he first made his way out of the water.

"Why didn't the current take you as far?" Will questioned.

Halt shrugged. "I found a spot where the current was weaker and held onto the rocks," he explained. "I was having trouble getting onto the bank." It was reasonably steep where Halt was, almost a miniture cliff into the water.

The older ranger stripped off his clothes and boots as well. He jumped up and down, rubbing his arms to keep warm. Will gave him some time to recover, then they both jogged together.

It wasn't long after that when they heard Lillian crying and calling their names. They picked up the pace and rounded a bend. Antil and Lillian had been jogging to meet them, though they had since slowed to a laboured walk as neither of them were very fit. Lillian raised her blurred vision as they came into view and a wide grin split her face. Immediately after, a dark blush spread over her cheeks and she closed her eyes.

Antil gave them a tiger fur each to wrap around themselves. Will sighed in satisfaction as the thick fur blocked out the chill. He'd put the statue he'd found in the tribesmen's camp inside it and now he remembered and scooped it up as it clattered to the ground. Antil was giving Halt the other fur and didn't notice.

"You can look now," he said to Lillian, fractionly amused. She peeked between her finger. Satisfied that they were covered, she gave them both a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank god you're alright," Lillian exclaimed. "I don't know what we would have done without you! Oh but you're here, so it doesn't matter." Even so, she couldn't stop herself from sobbing; no matter how many tears she brushed away there was always another to replace it.

"That idea didn't work," Antil observed. Halt sniffed.

They spread their wet clothes out on the ground to dry. Will played with the statue under the fur, fingering the little platforms and picking at the wax where a candle had once burned. Lillian settled beside him, leaning against the tiger fur. Halt stared out over the river, eyes dark. Antil picked grass and laid the blades in a row.

"I should have never gotten my hopes up," the healer said. "I should have known from the start that we are doomed. We'll never leave this place until death takes pity on us."

Lillian started crying again. Will couldn't summon the effort to comfort her, or even argue with Antil. What could he possibly say? He was out of ideas. He looked to Halt for comfort, but the older ranger lacked his usual confident and wise aura. He just appeared exhausted.

Will removed the statue from under his cloak and placed it on the ground for all of them to see. "What do you think it is?" he asked, because he wanted them to have something else other than failure on their minds.

Halt frowned. "Where did you get that from?" he asked.

"It's oramine," Lillian was saying before Will got a chance to reply. "It's one of their worshipping statues, remember?"

Will did remember, now that she had mentioned it. He'd thought there was something familiar about the stature but hadn't been able to place it.

When they'd first arrived in Oramin, and Sirisa (the appointed head of foreign dealings Sirisa; the polite Sirisa who had hidden her true self from them) had showed them to their rooms, there had been a similar statue.

"It is, it is," Antil said. He gingerly picked it up, holding it up to the sun as if it were the most sacred treasure. "I have not seen one in so long. When they held me imprisoned I was forbidden from one. It must be a sign. The gods have not forgotten us."

"I got it from the tribe," Will said in reply to Halt's question. "I wasn't thinking about it consciously, I just grabbed it and took it with me when I got the rope."

"It called to you," Antil said. "The gods have called to you."

Will was doubtful that this was the case. But Halt murmured, 'indeed' and asked if he could hold it. For a second, Antil clutched it to his chest as if he would rather give his heart than seperate from the statue. Halt held out his hand and waited. Antil glanced at them, realised the statue was not his, and passed it over.

"This is untarnished," he observed aloud. "It hasn't even a scratch on it. If it had been in the jungle for long it would be in worse condition."

"What are you saying?" Lillian didn't understand. Will did. The tribespeople had been to Oramin and recently. But how? They couldn't have crossed the river. Surely they wouldn't be strong enough to row over the current.

"They couldn't have made it across the river," Antil voiced Will's thoughts.

"Somehow, it seems as if they have," Halt stated.

Will stared down at his hands. He struggled to come up with an explanation of how the tribespeople had made a raft or a kayak sea worthy enough to cross the river. They were scrawny people; they wouldn't have the strength to row across. Unless there was a trick? A way of navigating over the current?

If there was, Will needed to know it. He flinched suddenly, twisting around the feel up the pockets of his shirt. There; the ring was still there. He relaxed, twirling it on his finger. He wished now he had given it to Alyss before he'd left.

Will smiled, recalling his last attempt at proposing. It had been after that chess game. The image of her smile brought a lump to his throat. Her teasing laugh as she witnessed yet another defeat to Halt. The wily old ranger always beat him and always in three moves. He refused to teach Will the strategy, just said "you should try thinking outside the box sometimes."

And then Will stopped reflecting on the past. He frowned. He tapped his thumb on his leg, thinking. Thinking _outside the box_, outside the river he'd been so fixated on. Thinking about certain events in the wild, and the stories Ruch had told and how such stories got warped over time.

"Maybe," he said slowly, "we don't need to go over the river at all."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

"Maybe," he said slowly, "we don't need to go over the river at all."

A crease appeared on Halt's forehead as he thought about it, but he hadn't been well and didn't know about the things Will did. Antil and Lillian weren't anymore enlightened.

"Don't give up Will," Lillian pleaded. "I don't want to stay here forever."

"I'm not giving up," Will told her, appalled she would even think that of him. He rocked onto his feet, adjusting the tiger pelt to cover him. They still had seven spears and he passed them around- two for Halt, two for Antil, two for Lillian and one for himself for he had his obsidian knife as well.

Halt passed the statue back to Antil. The healer clutched it to his skinny chest, diregarding one of his spears to hold it. Halt helped his former apprentice to gather their clothes in a dripping bundle. The two of them must have looked quite ridiculous, draped in tiger stripes, their hair sticking up in all directions, though cleaner than the others after their dip in the river. They certainly didn't look like rangers.

"Care to share your thoughts?" Halt prompted. Will nodded briefly as he dropped the tiger fur to stab at the sides, making arm holes. That way he could fasten his belt around the tiger fur and position his dagger by his hip, while still being able to move his hands. He scanned the bank; there didn't seem to be anything he'd forgotten.

"There's no way the tribespeople could have rowed over the river," he said. Halt nodded. That much was obvious.

"So maybe they went under it," Will continued. He gestured to the others. "Come on, up you get, there's no time for resting now."

Lillian hopped up, her knuckles white around her spears. Antil flurried around his pockets to tuck the statue away. The spearpoints quivered in his trembling hands. Will reflected that he didn't know what this man looked like when he wasn't withering away. As for Lillian, she was a far cry from the groomed courier he'd first met; she had been sanded at the edges and held the spears with such vice like madness that she might well go beserk if anymore of the tribesmen showed up.

Halt enhanced his tiger fur in the same way Will had. He held both his spears in one hand while he stooped to pick up Ruch's sword.

"Don't," Lillian said. "It's cursed. It must be. First Ruch had it, then Sirisa."

"I'm not going to use it," Halt reassured her. Indeed, he kept it wrapped in the banana leaves as he tucked it under his arm.

However many spears they had, if the tribespeople attacked they would be slaughtered. There was no doubt about it. The furs hindered the ranger's movements, plus they were carrying their wet clothes. Will jerked his head towards the trees and weaved through them, the others on his heels.

"We know the tribespeople must have been to Oramin recently to get that statue," Will continued.

"Yes, yes, hurry up about it," Halt grunted impatiently. Despite himself, Will had to enjoy leaving his mentor hanging. That and he was going slowly to make sure Antil and Lillian were following his thought process.

"I was thinking about Ruch's legend. Kohalli the Bloodthirsty. He led an army through the jungle and waded through the river to attack Oramin. But no one actually saw him crossing the river, right?" Will directed this to Antil, who of course knew all the legends.

"No." The healer failed to see the significance. "He was wet though; they saw him emerge from the bank."

"Right. They saw him emerge in the legend. They didn't see him walking through the water." Will glanced at his former mentor. Halt was nodding thoughtfully.

"You think he went under the river?" he asked. "It's possible, I suppose, that there's an underground tunnel of some kind. If this Kohalli character was leading an army, the Arasi might well have been secretly working away underground for years."

"Aras is renown for it's miners," Antil put in.

"Is it?" Will hadn't known that. "I thought it would make sense for a tunnel under a river to be damp at least, so they'd be wet when they reached the end."

"The legend also said the monster fish wouldn't attack Kohalli," Lillian added. "Obviously under the river there would be no fish."

They exchanged hopeful glances. That is, except for Halt, who rubbed his chin.

"The tunnel could have flooded by now of course," he reasoned. "This all happened long ago, I assume."

Will hadn't thought of that. His step faltered and he frowned to himself. There was nothing to be gained by dwelling on it. They passed the spot where he and Sirisa had come across the tiger, then where the swamp had descended on them- now rich soil.

"At the place where I found the obsidian, I slipped and my foot fell down a hole," Will carried on. "The ground must be hollow there. Maybe that's where the tunnel starts."

"If there is a tunnel," Antil said.

"There is," Will said shortly. There had to be. He couldn't handle another night in the wild without going insane.

At the rocks, he scouted ahead, scampering over the flecks of obsidian. Antil and Lillian dared not get their hopes up. They trailed behind. Halt did too, observing the land in meticulous detail. Nothing would escape his eye.

"Here!" Will called them over. "This is the spot." They grouped around the hole, less than impressed at the crumbling surface. Halt turned his attention immediately to the land around them.

"There must be an entrance," he said. "And a deeper hole. Step carefully," he cautioned.

The rangers were accustomed to stepping lightly and glided over the rocks; Will with a touch more care because he'd already slipped once. Lillian and Antil treaded with exaggerated tip toes. Her nerves on edge, Lillian squeaked now and again. They'd turn to come to her aid and see she had just lost her balance on the rocks.

Will and Halt pasued to pull on their wet boots. The dampness in the soles squelched as they stepped, and blisters formed on their heels (they didn't wear their socks in case their toes got mouldy) but it was better than the stabbing shards of obsidian and other sharp rocks.

On one occasion, Antil's foot fell down a hole and they had to pull him out. Lillian observed that even if they did find a tunnel, it looked like the ground was ready to cave in on them anyway. This was an encouraging thought. But Halt said that if the Arasi were miners then the tunnel would be safe and they wouldn't build it under loose rock.

"You could have said that before we started searching for it around here," Will accused, venting his frustration.

Halt raised an eyebrow at him. "Think. All this loose obsidian will have been turned up by the mine. It'll be around here somewhere, just not under the worst of the rock. Say, over there." He pointed to a dip in the rocks. They headed for it, dropping down a steep edge.

Sure enough, there was a square opening held up by wooden pillars. Around the entrance was an abundance of obsidian and other rock, chipped from inside the tunnel. Will imagined a cart pushed out of the dark tunnel, loaded with shiny rocks and pushed over so that they scattered everywhere. Why not gather them up? Were they panicking? He thought of the heavy rains and the swamp.

"It must have flooded," he said. "They left it abandoned. It drained out again in good weather but they didn't trust it for mining anymore. Kohalli came up with the idea of extending it and launching a surprise attack on Oramin."

Halt nodded. He too had come to a similar conclusion.

"How can you possibly know that?" Lillian asked.

"I don't _know_ it," Will told her. "It just makes sense." He had to think of Horace and how the knight would hate to make his way down an abandoned mine shaft. The darkness didn't bother Will so much, but still he was nervous about what might lie in wait down the tunnel.

"Torches," Halt said, ever practical. They set about gathering branches and lit a small fire. Will opted to hold the torch as everyone else had two spears. They doused the fire and erased the evidence of it when they had one branch crackling. Halt had painted a graphic picture as they were preparing of the tribespeople seeing evidence of them and realising they'd gone down the tunnel.

By now, their clothes had dried enough. The ranger's dressed, much to Lillian's relief. Halt even still had his ranger cloak with only a few minor tears and Will felt far braver when his former mentor tugged his hood up, looking every bit the stern ranger again, albeit a battered one. Will kept his tiger fur as a coat and gave Antil the other. Lillian had the smaller one, the third, that was more of a vest on her.

They brought along sticks to burn if their current one ran out, carried by Lillian. The first step was the hardest. Into the depth of darkness, the firelight glittering on the walls of the tunnel. Away from the jungle. Towards home.

The path was smooth, for old carts to run over. They never did come across any of these carts. Will assumed the tribespeople had scavanged what they could, taking them apart for tools. But he would have noticed if they'd had pickaxes and he never saw any of those in the tunnel either. Maybe the people took them back when they stopped mining. Or maybe they'd simply been wrong about it being a mine at all.

He asked Halt and the ranger shrugged. "They had an army come down here, they probably brought the pickaxes home," but there was no way of knowing for sure.

Old torch brackets were still lodged in the walls, but the torches had since been removed. As they went deeper in, they saw obsidian in the walls that had never been mined. The ground began to squelch. It wasn't long until they were wading through thigh deep water. Drops fell from the ceiling. Drip, drip, drip. An ominous noise that had an echo in the tunnel. Drip-_drip._ Drip-_drip_.

"In flood season it probably fills right up and drains out again," Lillian said to make conversation. The others nodded, they had nothing to add to this.

After another heavy silence, Antil said, "I can't imagine this will succeed."

Will glanced sharply at him. He waited for a continuation- why shouldn't this succeed? Then he realised that was not what Antil meant at all. He just could not imagine it because before the wild, he'd been imprisoned for a year and he'd almost forgotten what a normal life was like.

"I can't imagine remembering this," Lillian agreed. Telling it to her friends back in Caraway like a distant story.

"I can't imagine not longing for the past," Antil said.

"I can't imagine getting up in the morning and not seeing the trees," Lillian said.

"I can't imagine sleeping in a bed."

"I can't imagine eating at a resteraunt."

"I can't imagine getting married," Will put in.

"I can't imagine that either," Halt said dryly and Will glared at him. It had soon changed. They said 'I can't imagine' but it wasn't true because they began to list the things they _could_ imagne, the things they were longing for. Loves, friends, comforts, pets, castles, a particular river Lillian had skimmed rocks over, an apple tree Will had picked fruit for Tug- _Tug, Abelard, Horace, Evanlyn, Pauline, Alyss, Baron Arald, Sir Rodney, Jenny, George, Gilan-_ they listed name after name.

The mine began to slope upwards. The torch brackets weren't on the walls here. Will guessed this was when it had become less a mine and more a battle tactic, for the army would have had torchbearers, the ground wasn't smooth anymore, and the water was up to their hips.

They stopped talking as the water level lowered and the ground angled up. Will tried to slow his thudding heart. They had reached a dead end.

"Now what?" Antil said. There was no frustration in his voice, nor any accusation at being led all the way for nothing, just an empty desolation.

Will bit his lip. He swung the burning branch around, taking in the solid rock. Halt touched his arm.

"Always remember to look up," he said. So Will did and saw what the older ranger had already seen. Wood- the underside of floorboards.

"Lillian, hold the torch," he said, passing it to her. She juggled her spears into one hand, clenching it with the other. Will grinned at her. He placed his palms on the wood and pushed up. They came loose with no effort, clearing the way out of the tunnel.

He shoved gestured to Lillian to pass him back the torch. Then he shoved his spear through the hole, ready to defend himself if there was anyone on the other side. He lifted the torch, the light shining on what he saw now was a storeroom.

There were shelves of musty books. Paintings hung on the walls, of battles and fights, heads being lopped off and one in particular that caught Will's eye: a man in with vines and trees snaking around him, looming over him were luminous flowers that resembled those Will had seen in the jungle and the border was rushing water with a spike toothed fish in the upper right corner.

No one was in the room. He gave the torch back to Lillian and pulled himself up. Will turned to help the others, one at a time, Lillian then Antil then Halt into the room. Lillian had tears streaming down her face.

"This is the storeroom under the hall," Antil said, choked wonder in his voice. He staggered over to a box of statues just like the one he'd acquired. They could hear him rummaging in it, sobbing softly to himself.

"Halt?" Will asked, a little uncertain as to what their next move might be. "Are we still going to try and get a treaty with Oramin?"

Halt shook his head. "I doubt they'll listen after we sacrileged their precious painting. I've had enough of Oramin anyway, no offence Antil. I think it's time to go home."

Will had never failed a mission before. "Without the treaty?" As keen as he was to see Alyss, he didn't like to leave before he'd achieved his goal.

"We can't get a treaty with every country," Halt said. "Let it go Will and let's just count ourselves lucky to be alive."

"I guess so."

"I know so," Halt said sternly. "Now, we'll meet up with the skandians."

"What if they've left?" Lillian fretted.

"Svengal wouldn't leave us," Will told her without a trace of doubt.

"What about Antil?" she asked. She still couldn't stop the teardrops. They trickled in rivelets down her cheeks and plopped onto her collar. It wasn't fear; it was unbearable hope that they might soon be home.

Halt approached the healer. In the shadows, Antil looked thinner, haggard and defeated, as if he'd melt like the candle wax in the statues he was so fond of. Halt rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Antil, you are welcome to join us and come to Araluen," he offered.

Antil shook his head. Not in refusal, in disbelief. "I have a wife and a son," he whispered. "A wife and a son. I can see them again."

"They would of course be welcome in Araluen as well," Halt said.

"Thank you," Antil murmured. "After all, no one in Oramin is going to welcome a criminal."

"But that's ridiculous!" Will exclaimed. "You aren't a criminal. You just couldn't save one person. It wasn't your fault!"

Antil sighed. "It was one of Lord Daan's ladies. Not the right people to fail at healing." He placed the statue in the box of it's kind. "How do I know my wife will be happy to see me?"

"There's ony one way to find out," Will said. He made his way to a ladder leaning against the wall and climbed swiftly up the rungs. There was a trapdoor at the top and he rattled it- padlocked.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Let us out! Open up! Help!"

He heard a flurry of footsteps. Hanging on to the ladder with one hand, he angled the spear with his other. Halt was right behind him, climbing up the ladder. Antil was holding the base and Lillian raised the torch.

The trapdoor shook as someone fumbled with the keys. It eased open. Fresh light enveloped them, a relief after the tunnel, just as the rising sun was a relief after a night in the wild. The browned face of an Oramine peered down at them, alarmed. Will couldn't blame him; they were a sight in their furs, with their tangled hair and the speckle of stubble over his chin. And of course the spears. Will pointed his at the young Oramine.

"Move," he ordered. The man threw up his hands and stepped to the side as they clamboured out of the storeroom. The wild clung to them like droplets after a bath.

"Are you with the other foreigners?" the Oramine asked.

"What?" Will muttered. "You mean the skandians? Yes, we're with them."

The Oramine's face darkened. "And a convict too, I see," he nodded to Antil. A second later, something else registered. "You are the one's condemned to the wild! You have come from there! Lord Daan! Lord Daan!" He hurtled down the hall, yelling at the top of his lungs.

Halt started in the other directions, bustling the others along with him. They dripped water over the polished wood. The paintings on the wall seemed far too immaculate for them.

"Deja vu," Will said to himself. For they were in the hall where they had been arrested. Sure enough, it wasn't long until they spotted the five lords painting, hanging in it's prominent position.

"I've half a mind to break it," Halt growled.

"Don't," Antil muttered.

Lillian was already lifting it from the wall. "All this fuss over a painting," she said. "Just because the Arasi stole it."

"Don't touch it," Antil hissed.

"Put it back, Lillian," Halt said. "Let's go." Apparently, he could suppress his desire to get rid of the painting. But Lillian dug her nails into the frame. It split, cracking at the edges. Will remembered thinking it was remarkably light for such a thick canvas.

He pried it from her hands and split the frame all the way. There was a sliver gouged out of the canvas. Inside was a piece of parchment. Will pulled it out. The sloped writing was in Oramine.

"Come on," Halt said impatiently. Will passed it to Lillian with a brief instruction to look after it. They jogged through the hall. They didn't come across anyone else, though the rangers heard footsteps pounding behind them.

"This way," Halt said, shoving open a door into the afternoon daylight. Several Oramine pointed at them from the trees. "Where will your wife and son be?"

"Halt," Will said before Antil could answer. "Maybe I should get in touch with Svengal while you get Antil's family."

"Good idea," Halt nodded. "Take Lillian with you."

"Right, good luck."

"You too."

Will gripped Lillian's arm and ushured her on. "Remember the way to Insee river?" Of course she did, and after a bit of prodding she gave him directions. He remembered too, but he thought it was good for her to feel like she was helping.

They heard shouts behind them. "There they are!" "The ones who survived the wild!" "They shouldn't be alive!" "They must be sorcerers!"

Will and Lillian doubled their efforts. They skidded over the turf. She stumbled and he helped her up. But they were losing ground and armed Oramine soldiers gained on them.

"Keep going," Will muttered. He gave her a shove and spun around, drawing his obsidian dagger. He had been pleased with it in the jungle. Now, as the soldiers drew their swords, he thought it woefully inadequate.

They were on him, swingin and slashing. He fought back with all the wilderness that had sunk deep into his bones. The strike of a snake. The claw of a tiger. The bite of a fish. Stabbing with his spear like he had against the tribespeople. In battle, there was little difference between them and the Oramine. Splashes of blood brought him back and he thought he hadn't escaped the wild at all.

Will staggered back under the blows. They fanned around him, surrounding him. He hoped Lillian was running. He hoped she and Halt and Antil would make it to Araluen. A glint of silver swept down on him. Will was trying to block another cut at the same time, he saw as if it was in slow motion that he could not defend himself.

Then the space around him was cleared. A roar thundered, a battlecry. Will resheathed his dagger, loosening his hold on the spear. He smiled. Svengal and the other skandians whirled their axes, crashing on the soldiers. The sickly stench of blood rose in the air, then the cry of retreat as the Oramine backed away.

"Will!" Svengal bellowed. He picked up the young man in a massive bearhug. Will was laughing as he struggled to free himself. "Where've you been? We've been waiting for ages."

….

The ship sailed out of the Insee river that evening. Will scrubbed the last traces of the wild from his skin. He borrowed skandian clothes. The shirt hung to his knees, the sleeves dangled past his hands. His pants were rolled up around his ankles and only staying up because of his belt. A sheepskin vest gaped around him. But they were clean and fresh.

The floorboards tipped under his bare feet, rocking on the waves. He padded onto the deck, combing through his curls with his fingers. Halt was hunched over the rail, an air of foreboding around him. They'd had a feast for dinner, all jokes and ale and good food. Halt was suffering the consequences of eating with weak sea legs.

Antil had his arm around a pretty woman, and a young man of seventeen darted around the deck as if he'd never seen anything so marvellous in his life.

"Dolphins!" he called, laughing. Antil smiled at him. The healer was groomed, and though he looked as ridiculous as all of them in skandian clothes, his hair had been trimmed (by his wife) and his eyes were bright.

Ruch's obsidian sword was in the closet of Will's room. He'd looked at it once to change the banana leaf wrapping to one of soft cloth. Other than that, he left it alone. He liked to think that a piece of Ruch's and Sirisa's souls were joined with that sword. He liked to think in some way, they had made it out of the wild.

"Will," Lillian said softly. She had a peach dress on and her blonde hair gleamed in the sunlight. The dress was a gift from Antil's wife. From what Halt told him, the first thing she'd said when they declared they had to leave was, "well let me get my things." They'd had to pack as many bags as they could carry with clothes before she would leave with them.

Lillian held out the scrap of parchment. She'd been pouring over it since they got on the boat. Meticulously translating each symbol of the Oramine language helped her to stay calm. "It says, 'gifted to the arasi from the Oramine, to end the fighting. May the sixth lord be a better one.**'"**

"So the Arasi didn't steal it," Will said. "It's just another case of warped history." He wrote her translation beside the scrawl. Maybe, they would be able to use it to get a treaty with Oramin, by telling them their legend was wrong and that there'd been no real reason to prosecute them for from what he'd grasped, they hadn't wanted foreigners touching it because of the arasi stealing the painting. A skilled negotiator like Halt could twist that in their favour. Or maybe not. A treaty with Oramin might be more trouble than it was worth.

"I'm sorry," Will apologised. "This whole thing didn't go smoothly for your first mission."

Lillian let out a shaky laugh. "I don't think I want to be a courier anymore."

"It's not always this bad," Will said.

"I was there when both of them died." There was a shrill note in her voice. "How can I get past that?"

Will touched her arm. There wasn't much he could do that would comfort her. "What will you do?"

"I don't know," Lillian muttered.

He hesitated. "You'd make a good scribe."

"You think so?" She looked up at him, her eyes wide and desperate.

"Yes. Lots of writing and memorising things. Not much danger."

"Then I think I'd like to be a scribe."

"I have a friend who's a successful scribe," Will said. "I can get you accepted to be trained. I'm sure you'd graduate in no time at all."

"Thank you," she said. "I'd like that."

When the stars and the moon came out, Will brought his mentor a cup of coffee. They leaned on the railing, Halt still a touch green, sipping the fragrant liquid. They didn't speak, just stared at the northern stars that would guide them home.


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Halt and Will sat facing each other over the table. Between them was a board, painted black and white. Carved wooden counters were sitting innocently on the wood, black for Halt, white for Will.

Halt drummed his fingers on the table, waiting for his former apprentice to make his move. Will leaned forward, lips slightly parted, allowing the tip of his tongue to poke through. His eyes showed intense concentration as he tilted his head sideways to see a different angle of the game.

He reached a hand forward, touched a crude resmblance of a horse, and withdrew his fingers, frowning.

"Proposed yet?" Halt asked with a hidden smirk.

Will huffed. "I'll do it when the time is right." The ring was still in his pocket, still untouched by the hands he most wanted to touch it. "Stop trying to distract me." He frowned at the board, studying the counters.

"I thought you said you'd do it when you got home," Halt said.

"I will," the younger ranger insisted. He glanced over at the object of his affections- and his nerves.

They were in Halt's quarters at the castle. The rangers were playing chess, while Pauline and Alyss talked about work. It'd been a week since returning to Redmont. There had been a banquet to welcome their return in which everyone patted them on the back and told them it was good to have them home safe. They formally introduced Antil to the baron- he was going to work with Redmont's healers.

"Who's winning?" Alyss asked, catching him watching her.

"Not sure," Will muttered because while things were looking good for him, Halt always had a cunning plan up his sleeve.

It was nice to have an evening to relax. They'd been firing arrow after arrow into targets like he had when he was an apprentice to hone their skills after what felt like ages without their bows. There had been the tearful reunion with their horses, then the equally touching reunion with the couriers and their other friends. They'd farewelled Lillian and Svengal; the skandians promised to take her to Caraway.

"That doesn't sound like a proposal," Halt teased.

"Shh," Will hissed, alarmed that Alyss would overhear. But she was once more engaged in a discussion with Pauline.

Since returning, the wild still haunted him. He sometimes glimpsed feral eyes in the mirror, and moss on his skin. He shook his head to clear these visions. The nights were the worst. His dreams were dark, filled with trees, where tigers lurked but he could not see them, and the only thing he was sure of was the campfire.

Sometimes, when he woke, he swore his matress was the damp soil of the jungle. And when he heard the rain, he thought of a boggy swamp rushing in on him. Ruch and Sirisa would come to him too. Ruch with his wisened, crinkled eyes, and Sirisa accusing him, 'why does a worthless, jujoan foreigner get to live?' Worst of all, were the moments when he relived the spear slicing through Halt's stomach. There were days when he couldn't look at his mentor because he feared he would see pale skin and half closed eyes, chest barely moving. At these times, Halt would grab his shoulders and force their eyes to meet.

He showed Alyss the tiger pelts. She said they were beautiful. He let her keep them. He showed her the spears too and she was less entranced by these. When he showed her the obsidian sword and told her about Ruch and Sirisa, she put her arms around him and kissed the top of his head.

"Are you going to move sometime today?" Halt drawled, bringing him back to the present. Will peered at the pieces.

"I'm thinking," Will replied.

"Haven't you had enough time to think?" Halt wasn't talking just about the chess game, Will realised. The older ranger raised an eyebrow, jerking his head towards Alyss. He swirled the dregs of his coffee around. "Isn't it time to stop thinking and just do it?"

"You kow what?" Will said, "I think you're right."

He stood up, sliding the ring out of his pocket. Then he paused and glanced back down at the board. He moved his queen. "Checkmate in three moves," he said.

He was almost certain Halt's lips had twitched in a smile as Will strode over to Alyss, took her hand in his and dropped down on one knee.

And when her lips met his, he heard Halt exclaiming, "took you long enough!" and Pauline hushing him, but that was as distant as the wild now for all that sunk in was her whispered 'yes.'

The End.

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